Nox Aeterna
by elossa
Summary: With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost? Rated M for reasons: warnings inside. Written for bs13's horror contest. Starring Fabina, Peddie, Mickara, Amfie, and little bits of Jara.
1. Opportunity

****Summary:** **With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?****  
>Pairings:<strong>** Amfie, angsty!Jara friendship, Mickra, Mick/Alfie/Amber friendship  
><strong>Setting:<strong> AU. One year Post S2.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Cursing, gore, character death in later chapters, attempted & implied sexual abuse (Some might think this could be rated T, but a T rated fic _in my opinion_ wouldn't have so many warnings.)  
><strong>Notes:<strong> So, this short multi-chap is written for bs13's horror contest. For research, I rewatched the first season of Game of Thrones, watched Requiem for a Dream multiple times and let my mind fill in the blanks. The first chapter isn't too scary, because all the gore's left for later chapters.

* * *

><p>Senkhara smirked as she saw the students gather before her. Her army numbered to nearly one thousand, which was more than enough for a starting troop. Most of them were making some progress in the physical department, and a special few had strangely adept strategic abilities. She was thankful that she found her way to an able-bodied bunch of people; most of them weren't even at their prime yet.<p>

The girl – Nina – had been quiet today, as she had been for several months. At first, she had resisted once she had gained control of her mind. There were constant flashes of some Fabian and this girl called Amber and the Gran that she had done away with the moment she had full control. Over time, she caved in like any human would. She stopped sending images, she stopped talking back so often, and eventually she became mute. The first full day in this lithe body, without a resisting owner, Senkhara thought that it was her coronation day in Lower Egypt all over again.

It was.

Their uniforms were suitable for training: white tunics made out of the finest cotton made it simple for them to move and to fight. There was also light armour for when battle was to take place, but only she knew where the vault was.

She was freezing despite the overcast clouds above, but Senkhara had never such simple matters distract her from her course of action. As the final cluster of students assembled, she gathered on her makeshift stage built by the most able of men.

"Greetings," she began, all eyes focused solely on her. She could detect the smallest flicker of an eye a mile away, and she found none. "Today is yet another day in our beginning. The beginning of a new era. I have read all of your progress reports, and I am very glad to say that we can enter battle soon."

Silence.

"This is a good thing!" she exclaimed, face heated by the lack of glory she found. "That means the world can be ours. We can share the glory between ourselves. You, as my dedicated pioneer warriors, ensigns, and soldiers, will get the largest portion of our glory, when we one day attain it."

A holler of shouts began in one corner, and they quickly erupted into loud, relentless cheers that sent ripples throughout the crowd. Her smirk widening, Senkhara lifted her arms. "Yes! That is it! Applaud yourselves! You have gotten yourselves this far, and we will go further! Together, we can have this world in our hands! We can _own_ it!"

The cheering overwhelmed her, but she was okay with it. Soon, she finds herself laughing with the audience. But joy was not easily attained, and she intended it to be. "Quiet!" she bellowed, and these young, impressionable fools quickly did as she bid. "If all of you are good, then I may consider adding a little extra food to your rations." She gave a passive glare to the Farmers, the least able of the lot, who had now practiced the art of standing tall without their knees withering beneath them.

No one seemed perturbed by it; instead, they whooped even louder. Many began chanting the words she thought of banning at first, but had now grown on her.

"Long Live the Queen! Long Live the Queen!"

She let the chants simmer, and she could hear the warrior within each and every one of the teenagers that stood before her today.

Snapping her fingers, the crowd dispersed in single file. Most were holding hands with their assigned partners. Lust had always overpowered her thousands of years ago, and she hoped that history would repeat itself. Senkhara knew that in due time, her army would grow. A larger army meant more reinforcements and a stronger presence.

Her mind had a sudden change of heart. With a single whistle, Senkhara managed to summon her most loyal advisers. They were both young men, and one of them had strange, golden hair – the Osirian – and the other had dark brown hair that looked too red to be mud-coloured. When Nina still had some control of her brain, she often referred to him as her Chosen One. Such endearments confused the forgotten Queen for she never had any. Little Nina was the Chosen One, yes? she had thought the first time. It took her a lot of explaining from both her advisers to reassure her that the meaning was metaphorical.

There was a reason she never understood the morals her father taught her.

Her eyes grazed the fine glimpse of peach under Fabian's tunic. When she had first set eyes on the boy nearly two years ago, he was flimsy. She knew him well enough (with Nina's aid, of course) to know that his tactical analysis was on par with the generals of her age, if not surpassing that, and that was why she left him the simple task of training future generals. So far he had done a decent job, and due to his intensive physical training she hoped that he could fight too.

It also made him _that_ much easier to look at.

Senkhara took her dagger from beneath its sheath, enclosing it from view with her fingers. "Rutter and Miller," she hissed, their foreign names never ceasing to leave imprints on her tongue, "as my most trusted men, I would like to ask you a vital question, do you have any thoughts of rebellion?"

They shook their heads.

"Do you know of any rebellious troops? Militias? Guerrillas? Anything?"

Unsheathing her dagger from her fingers, Senkhara kept a firm grip on the hilt. She twisted it around her fingers, her eyes narrowing into slits on both boys. "Withholding information from me," she reminded them, leaning into the Osirian's ear and keeping the dagger's tip on his chin, "carries capital punishment. You haven't forgotten that part, haven't you?" Their lack of reaction both relieved and stunned her; perhaps she has trained them too well.

"No," he replied. "There are no signs of civil unrest."

She drew a breath, turning towards the brunet's ear. To her surprise he did not squirm, or flinch, his eyes remaining perfectly level and his stance unwavering. "How about you?" she interrogated slowly, the dagger's tip dancing on his "have you heard of anything that could disrupt our peace, _Mis_ – ter _Rut_ – ter?"

He shook his head. "No."

Senkhara traced the outline of his face with mock care, the cold metal shining like a lighthouse in comparison to his dull eyes. Inching it towards his ear, she gave it a quick slash. It quickly drew blood. Beads of red began to form in a straight, seamless line.

Neither boy dared to glare, though Edison began tending to it.

"It has been a while since I was able to do that," she smirked idly, shooing them away. "Ensure that all goes well on my anniversary feast, Osirian, the other Chosen One, and you shall be promptly rewarded."

* * *

><p>Mara couldn't keep her eyes off her stomach.<p>

It was her turn to take care of Joy, who continued to stare upwards at the ceiling. She had never moved since that incident nearly a year ago, and even when she coaxed the other Anubis residents of the details she can't seem to squeeze it out of them. _Too painful,_ they said. _Too painful._

She didn't blame them.

In the eve of Patricia and Edison's 'wedding' (it was illegal considering they were only seventeen, but modern laws never applied to Ni – Senkhara), Mara had gone to Mick and Fabian's former chamber for the last time. They gave one another a fleeting moment of comfort, and a week later the Forgotten Queen somehow discovered the girl's pregnancy before she did.

She had Mick killed, and Fabian could never look at Mara in the eye ever again.

The door creaked, revealing a solemn blond with a gold and sapphire necklace wrung around his neck, symbolising his status as Lieutenant. Standing at over six feet tall, he managed to overwhelm everyone in his presence with or without his rapier wit. Mara didn't have to look at the man to know his identity.

It was Jerome Clarke.

"I thought it was my turn to look after her today," he said, his azure eyes now clouded to an obscure shade of grey.

"No, it's mine," she corrects.

He shook his head. "Right, I'm going to have to look after her. I already told my superiors that I'd be having the afternoon off – "

" – and so have I." She didn't remember sounding so firm outside of work in ages. Her eyes travel to the floor. "We can look after her together."

Proposing such a notion made her cringe, but to her relief he nodded in agreement. "Fine, but only because…" His voice faltered, and both of them mentally filled in the gaps.

_Because any time off from my post is better than nothing._

There happened to be only one chair in Patricia, Mara and Joy's old room, and both teenagers wanted the other to take it. Eventually, Jerome wrapped an arm around his former crush's waist, gently pushing her down until her arse was firmly secured on the seat.

"You're pregnant, and that entitles you to special treatment," Jerome insisted, his words lacking the sneaky tweak they would've had nearly a year ago.

Mara sighed, resigned. She takes Joy's hand in hers, and smiled wanly at the shell of her friend. Her hand was freezing, and she looked ghostly, but something about her eyebrows and her pouting lips gave the farmer assurance that she was alive under this deathly mask. The ring on her finger shined more than the eclectic spark that had shadowed one of her closest friends.

"Joy," Mara began, an internal monologue of worries beginning to spill out, "I – hello. It's been a while, but a month isn't that long compared to that time you disappeared last year. But at least – at least you weren't dead then." She gave Joy's hand a gentle squeeze. "Not like you're dead now, but everyone else is losing hope. Jerome, Fabian… even Patricia's going to lose it.

"I bet you're thinking how Alfie and Amber are. I know you'd hate it if I sugar coated the truth, so I won't. No new Intel came in on either of their locations, and it bloody sucks. It feels like they've disappeared into thin air, but I know they haven't. They're here, somewhere, but I don't know if I'm going to see them ever again. I want to. I need to tell Alfie I _platonically_ love him and Amber needs to know that if anything happens I'll be there for her."

The tears start falling, and Mara had been waiting for this day for too long to care that Jerome was in the room. "I miss you, Joy. Having you just lie here on your deathbed fucking sucks. You're not dead, but everyone's planning for your funeral. Fabian misses you so, so much, and he wants to see you but you know he can't. Patricia and Eddie can't either, because he's the Osirian and they love each other too much to let go even for one minute. They're married remember? I – If… if Mick was alive, I bet he'd miss you too. Even Jerome misses you."

She lets go of Joy's hand, and wraps her arms around Jerome when he comes to lend a shoulder. "I – It's not f – f – fair," she protested, sniffling into his shirt.

"Life isn't fair," he countered. This made her bawl even more, but he didn't mind; from the hell she'd been through at work with some of the younger years getting more and more sick, she needed the release. He had to try and make her loosen her grip on him. If she was going to hold him like this for much longer he was sure he'd be choking. So he rocked her back and forth in his arms, and she became a flaccid thing.

"I'm going to give you a minute," he suggested as he backed towards the door, letting Mara's form droop into the bed.

She darted round to face him. "No, Jerome. I want you to stay." She shut her eyes. "I need to talk to you."

He shook his head, trying to convince himself of the determination he did not have. "Mara, if you're going to make us talk about what we had between us again – "

" – I'm _not – "_

" – then I won't let you."

Mara stood up from her seat, taking a step towards the blond. Swallowing her pride, she turned her face upwards to stare him in the eye. "It's a matter of life and death, and I'm afraid that if we miss the window we'll have to wait God knows how fucking long before another opportunity arises."

He took a step back. "I don't love you, Mara."

"I know. I don't love you either."

The words tasted bittersweet on both their tongues. It relieved Jerome of the guilt that had washed over him when he kissed Mara in her boyfriend's presence, and Mara felt relief at finally being able to let him go emotionally. Admitting it to each other after so long didn't make it any less hard.

"I'm listening," he said unexpectedly, "a window for what, exactly?"

The raven-haired girl gave a shifty eye around the room, shuffling through her old belongings for signs of cameras, microphones, recording devices. When she returned to Jerome's gaze, his curious stare gave her the impression that he'd swept this room enough times to know there weren't any. A small, genuine smile flickered in her eyes; for the first time in a while, she felt liberated.

"I have a plan that can possibly save Nina, you, me, all of us," Mara said furtively, her inner Gryffindor shining through, "but it's complicated, and farfetched, and morally unsound – "

" – our lives are morally unsound as they are," he barked, though his eyes were wide with an intent to listen, "but yes, keep going."

She linked her hands together, the courage that had kept her together in the previous minutes seeping away. "Well, it's mostly Fabian's idea so if you want go and thank him for it; I just put two and two together."

"No one cares about the credits, Mara. Keep talking."

She brushed her hair away from the face, shuffling towards the door and glancing shadily at the comatose girl. "Fine," she mumbled, staring at the floor. "Okay. I'll… I should…"

"You said we have to hurry, and the sooner you tell us, the more time we have to plan this shit."

He'd grasped her hand in his, and at such a realisation he broke off the one minute of skin contact with her, looking ashamed at himself. She gulped, nodding. "So, if I'm not mistaken, Senkhara has total control over Nina's body, mind and soul. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Nina, even if she was still resisting in her mind – though unlikely – would have no control over her actions, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then, we go for the heart."

Jerome's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

"We have to stab Ni, no, Senkhara in the heart. Technically, the spirit should bleed out of it, giving Nina full control of her body again."

It took a few milliseconds for Mara to register the shock that shook Jerome's body like a leaf. He was gaping at her now, wondering if she was insane or if this was something she legitimately thought through. His lips were parted, his eyes scanning an invisible book of thought that she couldn't see. She could see the refusal on his tongue and the denial forming on his face as he buried it within his hands. Come to think of it, the valedictorian did sound far too level when she delivered the plan.

"I – I'm sorry," she added, breaking the iceberg. She rolled her eyes and laughed cynically at her failure. "What the hell was I thinking? I'm so stupid – "

"No, you're right." He broke out of his manic trance. "Problem being none of us would get ten feet of Senkhara with the exception of Fabian and Eddie. You know how hard it is to get them alone nowadays for a minute, let alone several to think this through. Even if I could get within a couple of metres within her they'd confiscate any weapon I had in my pocket – "

"I'm not done, Jerome," Mara snapped. "There is a possibility we might kill Nina as well, if we shove the knife in too deep. With the data from my thought experiment, the knife must be twisted between three and five inches deep. No shallower and no deeper."

"Simple enough, seeing as it's a thought experiment."

"Can you shut your gob for a minute?" Jerome didn't look the least bit thrown aback by her brashness, but his silence was good enough for her. "I also found out about the seven acolytes thing from Patricia a couple of months ago, before she married Eddie. You learned about this when Joy was the supposed Chosen One. If Senkhara can't take Nina's body, then she'll have another of the seven acolytes."

His face blanched, and silence settled. "What? She can possess us too?" His rage was unmistakable as his hand rushed to the nearest shelf and shoved everything off it. A series of clatters imprint themselves into the floor: it is now littered with shards of glass. "I thought she could only possess us if we were in possession of the mask, and now that thing is long since gone."

"Well, you thought wrong. The only thing that can stop her from taking any of your bodies is either hyper vigilance, or death. Most of you will be once you've stabbed Senkhara, but not all of you."

His jaw slackens, and she could tell by the way his mind was working that he was genuinely and utterly terrified. "For fuck's sake, what are you trying to say, Mara?"

She glanced at her bed, her words coming out as timid whispers.

"We're going to have to kill Joy."

* * *

><p>Summer lingered on the branches outside, but it could never penetrate this hell.<p>

"You're a pretty girl," he whispered, kissing the skin in the valley between her breasts. He continued his journey downward, his lips marking her as his. "It's surprising, how such an annoying bunch of kids managed to pick up a beauty of your calibre."

She swallowed, trying to nod. Ever since he'd chained her in the gatehouse as his own private prisoner, the only light that she was graced with during her torture was the light from the stars. Once, she would be terrified of the dark and would give anything for the moonlight shining from above. Now it only made things worse. When there was light that meant she could see him, and all of him. He was so red and putrid underneath those clothes.

God, she missed having them.

All she had when she wasn't Rufus's marionette were a few sheets of blankets to curl up in, and during winter she could feel herself slowly become a large chunk of frost. Sometimes there was blood between her legs, sometimes worse, and she felt so filthy and she looked like shit and her lips can never stop bleeding and it hurts to eat. When she was allowed to shower, she made the most of her fifteen-minute window.

His fingertips felt like ice on her thighs.

"I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to like it."

She was used to it. The insults, the degradation: he had said the worst things, and then some. As he bit into the skin of her neck, she shuddered. Roaming up towards her ear, he moaned from the back of his throat. She bit her lip, dreading for that moment when his fingers would grip her jaw and force her to face him. He'd then make him kiss her, those chapped lips of his that had nothing within them but lust and hate and evil.

When the moment comes, her lips crashed on his. She could feel the smirk up his spine and his member hardening against her foot. She groaned as she shoved him against the wall behind her. They broke apart, gasping for air.

"Tell me you want me, you slut."

"I w - want you."

"What's that? I can't hear you, slut!"

"I want you!"

Her throat burned, and she wished she didn't put in so much effort into saying his words. The problem came when she didn't, and he'd make her say it over and over again. Sometimes she thought that the more she said it, the more she wanted it, but only so that he could get it over with and leave her alone. She remembered when his visits seemed so often she could only get a few minutes of sleep before he woke her, but now they were getting more infrequent. If there was one thing she was grateful of during the oncoming months, it was that.

Rufus closed her open lips by putting his between them. She kissed him back, only because gut instinct told her to. He wrapped his arm around her, pushing her backward.

He was on top of her, and that meant whatever control she had was slipping.

Three brief knocks on the door interrupted them. He grumbled as he put his clothes back on. "What is it this time, Lewis?" he barked.

"The Queen insists that you're present during her small council meeting," the voice responded calmly.

He ran his fingers through his hair, storming out of the room. When Rufus's footsteps were merely echoes, Alfie rushed in and wrapped his girlfriend in her bloodstained blankets. Her head instinctively landed on his shoulder as he brushed her back. "Where's Mick?" she croaked.

The bed rattled as a blond sneaked himself out from beneath it. He gave Alfie and Amber a lopsided grin before propping himself on the bed next to them. "Hey Ambs," he greeted, "my back wants to kill me and I'm sure I have more cramps than an old woman, but I'm here."

"Good," she sighed. Turning her head to face him, she cracked a smile.

"You okay?" asked Alfie, holding her body closer to his.

She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Ambs."

Alfie brushed his fingers through her hair, trying to untangle the knots. Her platinum blonde hair had all but lost its sheen; the new hair that had grown atop her head was dull in comparison. Amber continued to stare at him, her brown eyes fixated on his. They hadn't kissed since the day she was brought down nearly a year ago; Rufus had forced her innocence out of her. That pretty much reduced their former passionate snogging to nothing more than chaste pecks on the cheek. Anything more emotional than that, she would flinch away from.

She linked the fingers of her left hand with Alfie's, the fingers of her right with Mick's. Her eyes would not leave them: this tender hint of human love, contact between other people that was not forced and that she was sure would not lead to pain. "My boys," she mouthed, kissing each hand in turn, "my favourite boys."

Alfie smiled, and Mick let go of her. She gazed up at him with doe-eyed worry, before he shook his head and said that he only wanted to let her have some time alone with her boyfriend. She could only rasp a quick thank you; the sing-along quality of her voice had disappeared months ago.

The guardsman rubbed his thumb on her fingers, gazing down at them as curiously as Amber had. She remembered the time when she thought silence meant awkwardness, and that _totally_ meant that you weren't working out. Now, she was glad it existed. Her mind had been churning with dangerous thoughts far too often, and there were voices that didn't belong to her that told her to do things. Things that still, after all she went through, made her heart flip.

"I love you," she mumbled, leaning in towards Alfie. She closed the distance between them, starting off gentle. Passion kicked in and the kiss lasted much longer than a couple of seconds.

"I love you too," Alfie said, breaking away from his girlfriend. Cupping his face with one hand, she had this look in her eyes he didn't recognise. His eyes widened as she attempted to capture his lips once more.

"No." He inched himself away from her. _"No."_

"Please," she begged, "make love to me, Alfie."

"No," he retaliated, pushing himself away from her. "Not in here, and not now. One day when everything is safer and we have all the time in the world, maybe. But no, not now. You're only saying that because you're terrified." He held a tighter grip on her hand. "You deserve candlelight, and flowers, and soft music. You don't deserve this."

"But that's what I got, and you don't know if there will be a one day."

"There will be a one day, because we - you, Mick, me - we're fighting. Jerome, Fabian, Eddie, Patricia, Mara… they're all fighting too. Fighting for us."

"You don't know that. They all think we're dead for all they care."

"I do know that they care about us, and I know it as much as I love you."

The quiet resumed, and it was Alfie who chose to break it. "Do you know how much I want to marry you right now? You're eighteen soon, and so am I, and then the moment we get out of here we're going to tie the knot. We've been through too much not to." He knelt on the floor, still holding her hand. "Amber Daphne Millington, I don't know if I'll ever be worthy of you, but will you be the honour of being my wife?"

Amber nodded, tears streaming down her face. Instead of giving her a ring, Alfie draws an Eye of Horus on her ring finger with a Sharpie. Laughing, she embraced him, their lips colliding to seal their vows.


	2. Conspiracy

****Summary:** **With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?****  
>Pairings:<strong>** Amfie, Jara friendship, Mickra, Mick/Alfie/Amber friendship, Peddie  
><strong>Setting:<strong> AU. One year Post S2.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Cursing, gore, character death, attempted & implied sexual abuse  
><strong>Notes:<strong> This chapter focuses on the Jara/Peddie/Fabian side of the story, but have no fear: there will be lots of Amfie and Mick next chapter (and Rufus, of course). Also, this is my first horror chapter ever so I'm sorry if it turned out horrible.

* * *

><p>When Fabian found a note with nothing but the Eye of Horus tacked onto it, he knew something was up.<p>

Contrary to most opinions, the brunet hated the pedestal he was put on. With his position as Adviser thrown about, everyone could not stop _looking_ at him. He'd dismissed them as signs of jealousy at first under Eddie's wing, but soon they began to spend more and more time apart and whatever shoulder was there before was forcibly taken away from him. Paranoia filled in the blanks, and it was evident that for whatever reason most of the school _hated_ Fabian Rutter.

One of the only benefits of being Senkhara's deputy was that mail could go to his inbox without being checked. That was how he knew that the message had to be important, considering it was snuck under his door as opposed to being hand-delivered by one of the younger guards.

_Former Residence – 23.00.  
><em>_Tell no one._

It had been a while since he entered Anubis House; he'd moved to one of the other Houses. He and many other generals shared that space, and though he found them decent company they couldn't compare to his former friends in Anubis House. An unwritten rule had been drawn in the sand not to talk of those times which were referred to as the Before; Senkhara had eyes everywhere, and one must be careful not to tread on the wrong string. Receiving and reading this letter was dangerous, let alone actually going to the meeting.

He was glad that he left the task of researching ways to kill Senkhara in Mara's capable hands nearly six months ago. _Before Mick went._ Frankly, he hadn't left a lot to go on, because most of the puzzle pieces were in place. His mind was too busy wandering through the treacherous territory of politics. He took most of his social clues from his old housemates, and Senkhara seemed to coddle him during feasts.

Fabian pocketed the letter in his satchel, leaving his room to have lunch. He passed Jerome in the stairway, and the blond offered him a furtive nod. According to the code they'd devised some months earlier when hope was a concrete rather than an abstract concept that meant go. He didn't have to ask where.

"Fancy some potatoes, Rutter?" Jerome probed, making small talk.

Months had passed since their last covert conversation, and even then Fabian could not betray the surprise in his eyes when he talked about such matters. "I would," he replied, "am I wrong to trust that they'll be decently cooked?"

The blond looked grave. "They will be very well made," he replied, carefully choosing his words, "however, their taste might not be to your liking."

Both teenagers sat with six others in their table, Fabian at its head. It was a relief that Trudy was still in the school as opposed to dead or exiled like many of the other adults. She gave them her best smiles as she traipsed about the kitchen, searching for extra cutlery. Eddie entered the room several moments later, trying to isolate Fabian and Jerome from the rest of the crowd, but facing a gargantuan feast made him forget about his motives made him focus on the real reason one swanned into the dining room.

"These potatoes are delicious, Trudy!" Eddie complimented, trying not to betray the curiosity of his friends' sluggish behaviour. "Dudes, you gotta have some! If I'm not mistaken, you're both doing some physical exercises today and you're gonna need the energy!"

"They might not be to our taste," Fabian sighed, taking a heap of them and placing them on his plate. "Besides, I don't want to get cramps in the middle of my exercise and forced to take the afternoon off."

"Same here," echoed Jerome, eating the food on his plate far more slowly than usual. To their relief, Eddie didn't arch his brows, only nodding that it was fair enough for them to think ahead.

_He didn't get the note yet?_ Fabian thought, wondering how that could be. The brunet was usually the last to get the memo. Perhaps Eddie had become ridiculously clever at hiding his surprise. A year ago, he wouldn't have pegged the American to be a secretive type, but as he was about a lot of things lately, he was wrong.

"How's your wife?" Fabian questioned, trying to make small talk.

"Yacker's fine!" beamed Eddie, scoffing. "She says she's making headway in her current task at work, whatever that means."

Jerome nodded, and that lulls the table to silence.

* * *

><p>The afternoon droned so slowly Fabian was sure time was going backwards. He nearly collapsed on the way to his quarters, but thank goodness for barristers. The situation hadn't gotten dire enough for Senkhara to set a curfew on the school, so there was a few people milling about outside as he attempted to sneak his way to his old home.<p>

His heart palpitations bothered him purely because of their presence: he must've lived on that level on anxiety for months but it had only worried him now? To be frank, the brunet had always been a worrier: he worried about the sanity of his friends, going through lives that were not theirs to live; about Amber and Alfie and Mick and how he tried his best to withhold from his friends the information that yes, they're alive for the greater good; about Nina and how fucked up she must be, not being able to do anything in her own body for nearly a year. It was psychological torture, to put it rationally, but there was nothing rational about betraying his unwanted leader.

He arrived in his former house, cobwebs weaving themselves on the old porch and the hedges overgrown. Like the old days, he gave two sharp knocks on the wood before muttering the code word Scully. (Alfie had been the last one to choose it, and they kept it in memoriam of him. Besides, no one had a tasteful one to change it to anyway.)

Most of the former residents were seated in the lounge. Patricia and Eddie were on the loveseat, basking in each other's presence. Jerome was fiddling with something: a plan, he presumed. Mara's gazed was fixed firmly on the floor, and Fabian couldn't say he blamed her.

Five down, five to go.

Fabian's presence took over the others' like a shadow: he felt like he was Victor, this sad monster to be feared and run away from. He gave them his best smile before sitting across the Osirian and his wife, clearly uncomfortable with the quiet that had ensued since his entrance.

"Right," Jerome began, "we are here for a reason and only one reason: we found a way to get Nina back and finally get Senkhara off of our backs for good."

"If you did, wouldn't you have done it already?" Patricia spat. Eddie squeezed her wrist. "It would save us the trouble of leaving the comfort of our houses and getting some sleep."

"There are some conditions you wouldn't agree with if we went with the original plan," Mara argued, "and Fabian once said t – that you make decisions together after the whole Mark of Anubis fiasco, and for this one I suggest we all talk about it and decide a course of action before someone crosses the line."

Nodding, Fabian felt his heart skip a beat. "She's right. If we're going to save Nina we're going to have to do this systematically and as soon as possible."

Mara added, "We only have an acceptable window of one week to make it work before we have to wait again."

Eddie frowned, and Patricia shook her head. "One _week?"_

"Most of the preparation comes beforehand, like right now," Jerome said. "I'm going to let Mara talk about the plan, since she's the one that managed to figure it all out."

In the midst of his sentence, Mara sneaked a look at Fabian's shoes, before she cleared her throat and began talking. "Nina's heart is the key," she said, "we have to stab her in the heart at a depth of between three to five inches. However, I'm not entirely sure because I haven't tested it out, but how can I when she – "

" – you do know my Osirian senses are going on overdrive because of what you're saying, right?" Eddie interrupted. Fabian and Jerome hushed him, and Mara paid no heed.

"As I was saying, we have to stab Nina in the heart at a certain depth. Any of the seven acolytes can do it, which means that Jerome, Patricia or Fabian can do it. I think that's a good idea anyway; they're the best ones with the knife. I'm not sure about the Osirian, but I don't think he should do it since it could become a suicide mission." Eddie looked puzzled, but Mara pressed on. "However, Senkhara's increased strength because of her time back here on Earth means she can also possess one of the other seven. Since most of you will be there and you'll be very… shocked about what just happened, that hinders her from taking over your bodies. Alfie and Amber are g – gone, so we don't have to worry about them either.

"The only one that we do have to worry about is Joy."

Patricia frowned, "What do you mean? Joy's fine!"

"I hate to admit it now, Patricia, but Joy's as good as dead whether we like it or not!" A tear streamed down her cheek. "We can't keep her around in our old room anymore, not for this plan to work. It's not healthy for her and it's not healthy for us. We have to move on."

"No, we don't!" the brunette protested.

Mara stood up. "Yes, we do! If we're going to get Nina back, if we're going to get our lives back, and if we're going to try and fix the damage that _bitch_ has done to us, we're going to have to kill Joy!"

Patricia's anger mounted into pain. Tears cascaded down her face. "H – How could you say that? How dare you insinuate killing m – my best friend?" she spat, rushing over to Mara's side of the room. "Y - You _whore!_ First, you get Mick killed because you felt the dying urge to _fuck_ him, and then you try and kill one of our own?" Her palm violently brushes against her friend's cheek, leaving a large red handprint. "Joy's your friend! She's our friend! Why the fucking hell would you want to dispose of her like you do your fancy surgical needles?"

"I don't, Patricia!" Mara protested, balling her fingers into a fist. Her eyes furrowed, yelling at Jerome when he wrapped both his arms around her waist to restrain her. "What makes you think I want to do this? Joy is the only one of us who has high enough electrical brain ability – which is obviously created by biological processes such as breathing – to let Ni - Senkhara in, but not too high to literally frizzle her soul if she enters her brain. We cannot let her go into any of our bodies or she'll just enforce her regime on us all over again." By this time, Jerome had made sure Mara sat firmly on a seat, his hands gripping her protectively. "I'd get an AED but I haven't seen any in months and I've forgotten how to use one anyway – "

"Is there a way of blocking the impulses? Or cloaking them so that they can't be detected?" Jerome asked, and Mara shrugged her shoulders.

"We could bury her at least six feet underground," Fabian offered, and that sent Patricia back into a raging storm.

"Joy's _your_ best friend too!" she blustered, her eyes boring into the brunet's. Her auburn hair stood up on end as Eddie attempted to soothingly rub her wrist. "How could all of you possibly be _okay_ with murdering her? Do you know how much she went through? The only reason she's like this is because Nina attacked her and she did it to save _Fabian's_ life because she fucking loves you!" She gave the brunet a glare. "She can barely look at us without flinching if she woke up right this moment and saw all of us dressed like this! You know how much she hates robes!"

"That's enough, Patricia," Eddie said sternly, his voice leaking with pity. He wrapped an arm around her, letting her sob into his shoulder. Carrying her back to their seat, he rocked his wife back and forth in his arms. Her weeping subsided into sniffles, and everyone waited soundlessly for her to become calm. Eventually she turned her gaze back to her friends, though she did not crack a smile.

"Fine," she announced. "We have to kill Joy. But I'm not playing any part of it. No planning, no nothing. You're doing that on your own." She twiddled her thumbs together. "But I will be able to help get Senkhara out of Nina. Doesn't she have a feast in a week?"

Jerome nodded. "It's her one year anniversary of making our lives hell. Who cares about the kids going down with cholera? Let's spend the money on chickens instead!" He rolled his eyes, receiving a glare from Mara. "Fine, I am stretching it with that, but we still need a way to get to Senkhara. I can't get to her easily, so Fabian or Eddie will have to be the ones to take her out."

Patricia pouted, "The problem is trying to kill her with her guards' backs turned, and finding a time when she's completely vulnerable. She has to be completely caught off guard when Fabian and Eddie murder her, or distracted."

Eddie's eyes twinkled. "Mutiny."

Frowning, Fabian asked, "What?"

"Mutiny," Eddie began, "is when people rebel against their superiors. Really, Stutter Rutter, this should be a concept you should be very familiar with bearing in mind – "

The brunet glared at him. "I know what mutiny is! You just so happened to yell it out of context."

"Can we not have another argument?" Jerome growled, rolling his eyes, "I thought the whole point of today's meeting was to actually get somewhere, not argue like five-year-olds."

"You're right," the other blond agreed, his gaze lingering on Fabian and the edge of his lip curling. "I was thinking that because we can't rebel against Senkhara without hm, I don't know, killing ourselves, we get everyone else to."

Mara arched a brow, her lips pouted in thought. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I have no idea what you mean."

Eddie smirked, "We have Jerry, who is in an influential position to possibly sway the minds of the so-called pawns. Isn't your sister Poppy like, ridiculously popular?" He nodded. "You're going to have to try and persuade her that what she's going through is wrong. She needs to do something about it but she's going to need a lot of help." Jerome opened his mouth, but Eddie dismissed it. "Yes, I'm using your sister because if you do it you'll die and we kinda need you. Also, if I'm not mistaken, she's just as sneaky as you, which makes her a perfect candidate."

"Don't we need signs of civil unrest for a mutiny to occur?" Fabian demurred, "remember what Senkhara said to us the other day – "

"No offence, dude, but Poppy's way out of your league. For once, that's actually working to our gain. One: there is no way you can see what she's doing, and you have no reason to speak to her. She's with the Farmers, right? Two, you're stuck with soldiers who have little to no contact with them, and if you know it would just make you incredibly resourceful. If you don't, she can't entirely blame either of us."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Patricia agreed, "but Krueger's got a point."

"I'm not a complete doofus, Yacker," Eddie grinned, and Patricia offered him a smile.

"It sounds simpler said than done, though," Mara said. "trying to create chaos at a feast that's going to be heavily guarded will lead to multiple casualties, and Joy's death is going to cause us so much hell, let alone many. I'm not particularly comfortable with this, but it sounds like our best shot." She tapped her fingers on her thigh. "I think it's best if we split the tasks. Jerome and me can plan Joy's… resting place, and Fabian, Eddie and Patricia can plan the mutiny." Her face brightened, a ghost of a smile twinkling her chocolate eyes. "We should have a codename for this, just in case."

"Krueger's Shotgun?" Eddie suggested.

Mara grinned, "I like that."

* * *

><p>Night came too quickly that day.<p>

Jerome and Mara met at the front of Anubis House, armed with shovels, knives and a long piece of rope. The blond ensured that the things needed to clean up the mess later on are found easily at the front of the house. For now, all he needed was his trusty knife. He balanced it atop his ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked of Mara. Her eyes were vacant, her lips unmoving. "If you want to back out now, I'm fine doing it on my own. It's not too late."

"No," she insisted, clearing her throat. Turning the doorknob, she entered the house. Jerome swiftly followed. She closed the door before turning to her companion, attempting a smile. "It's my plan too. What kind of mastermind am I if I don't partake in the execution of my own plot? Besides, it doesn't feel right if you do it alone. Murder isn't something to take lightly."

"You're rather impartial to taking the blame with me, Mara Jaffray. I never knew you were one for trouble," he remarked, smirking.

"Not really," she agreed, "but I'm sure being a temporary evil genius does count for something in your university application." She didn't let him respond and ran up the staircase, daring Jerome to chase after her. The raven-haired girl forgot that he was much quicker than her despite her athletic upbringing. When he catches her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her round. She laughed, trying her best not to squeal so not to raise suspicion in the nearby neighbourhoods. "Stop it, Jerome!" she exclaimed. Promptly, he landed her in front of her old room.

It was Jerome who opened the door, and to his relief Joy hasn't moved an inch since their last visit. _She looks so peaceful,_ he thought. Without pause, he withdrew his knife from his ear, gripping its hilt with an iron fist. Mara gave him a look of concern, which he ignored. Exhaling heavily, Mara cleared her throat and gave her final words.

"Joy, you have no idea how much pain I'm in right now, reciting these words to you. I'd say you're the lucky one out of the both of us, but considering you're the one that's going to die, I'd rethink that statement. You're one of my closest friends and I have to thank you for everything. For being a good friend and a shoulder, for not calling me a total whore when… when I had feelings for both Jerome and Mick, and I just thank you for your presence." She took her hand in hers. "I love you so much, and I don't want to do this. Believe me, I don't. But I want my life back."

She dropped Joy's hand, which fell to her side. It was Jerome's turn.

"Joy, I… I don't know what to say. When we were younger, we used to be best friends: you, me, Trixie and Alfie. I know this isn't the first time you're hearing this, but Alfie's dead and Trixie's not here. Looks like it's just the two of us for now." He brushed the hair out of her forehead. "Trixie told me to tell you she loves you ever so much and she hopes that you're in some alternate universe where you do get what you want. Alfie would say the same thing, if he were alive enough to say anything. I'll miss you, Joy. I'll miss you a lot."

Retreating from the bed, Jerome gave her one last look before his sight removed from her face to her neck. Breathing in deeply, he inched his knife closer towards it. Soon, they were making contact. Hesitation was not in his vocabulary as he viciously shoved the knife into her neck.

There was no blood.

Both Jerome and Mara's faces were contorted in alarm. The blond pulled the knife back towards him, removing it completely from her throat. To his dread, the blade was spotless. His eyes widened in panic. He stabbed her over and over and over: on heart and on her chest and on her stomach and on her arm –

- no reaction.

"Stop!" Mara cried, restraining Jerome from Joy's body. She wrapped her arms around his twitching form, and by some miracle he managed to calm down. To say he had ravaged her body was an understatement: there were so many open cuts, and the stench of raw flesh quickly made itself at home. Mara could feel sick rising in her throat, her knees quaking.

Joy sewn-shut eyes suddenly flashed open, revealing a set of emerald green eyes. She sat up on the bed. She shrieked, the lights of the room flashing from total brightness to total darkness. The windows shattered and shards of glass fell to the floor, nipping at Mara's feet. Joy's eyes continued to widen, its eyes mechanically scanning the room and its hate focused on the two people in it.

"You!" she exclaimed, pointing to Jerome, "the Betrayer of the Paragon! How dare you show yourself! How dare you try to murder one of your own friends! You're going to need her but you're going to so selfishly throw her away! How _dare_ you be here!" She then pointed to Mara, "You! A whore of this, mine, and any other time! What makes you think you're worthy to be here?"

"Joy?" Jerome asked, Mara far too mortified to act, "calm down – "

"Who is Joy? I'm not Joy!" the brunette exclaimed. "I'm _Sarah!_ Didn't the Chosen One tell you who I am? She – she put the cup together j – just for me. For you to keep the world safe." She calmed down, her expression on her face turning into one of glee. "How is she, Clarke? I hope she's okay. She's never let me down before, my Chosen One."

Jerome opened his mouth to respond, but she placed a finger on his lips. _How does she know my name?_ he thought broodily. "Clarke… y – you look s – so… so _young_… where's Lewis? I – I haven't seen him in so long… he was a lovely, lovely man… is his wife still alive?" Pupils dilated with shock as she came to realise something; Mara couldn't think of what. Joy – Sarah's – palm cupped one side of the blond's face, thumbing his eye bags. "You must go to the Gatehouse. The – the scales of life… you have to go there now. Be – before it's too late… i – it's going to take over…"

Joy's form was losing consciousness as her green eyes faded back to their original hazelnut. She slumped onto the bed, her head resting on the crook of the headboard. Blood trickled out of the countless scars Jerome had inflicted on her. She began to cough up blood. It splashed on the floor in a stuttered stream, forming miniature splatters and puddles of crimson red. She shuddered, shivered.

One final cry, and she was gone.

Mara came forward and closed Joy's eyes for her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, as she could not feel sadness at her friend's death. She swallowed and gave Jerome a petrified look. "I – I can't…" she mumbled, muffled by her tongue dripping with fear. "Can't… I can't bury her… she – she… I c – can't…"

The blond rubbed her shoulder, kissing her affectionately on the forehead. "Fine. We won't bury her. Not until all of this is over. How does that sound?" She nodded in approval. "But first, I think we're going to clean this room. I'll try and see if there's any rags in the kitchen, and you stay here and watch the body."

Again, Mara bobbed her head as he left the room. She squeezed her friend's hand, knowing that she was never going to feel it squeeze back or see the distinct brown of her eyes, let alone hear her voice again. All she had known the year before her education went down the drain was Joy's obsession with Fabian. To have it abruptly taken away from her pretty much sucked the familiarity out of her life.

Tears stung the back of her eyes, and the nurse tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in her throat. Blood blemished her tan palms as she gave them a look. She drew two straight lines on each cheek with her middle and index finger. Another straight line was carved from the space between her eyebrows and down the bridge of her nose.

Jerome returned with rags, and he began cleaning up the floor. Mara deftly dodged her way through the shards of glass to stare at the moonless sky outside. She smiled, trying to coax herself back into happiness.

"I need a little help here, Mara," Jerome called. She nodded, accepting his offer. He tosses a rag in her direction, and she begins from the side with all the glass. All the pain. All the memories.

She remembered looking at this piece of glass, consulting it for advice. It was the one that told her that straightening her hair was a good idea, and that long distance with the guy she had a crush on since ever was worth a shot. It told her that Jerome was someone worth fighting for, and that if she thought that her feelings for him were real, then they were.

Sweeping some glass under the rag, Mara could feel something stabbing her palm at all angles, but she didn't care. Throwing the rag out the window, she sighed, sitting on the space where she once hid from one of Amber's rage fits. Oh, the things she'd do to hear her ex-best friend moan about shoes again.

The tears didn't wait for her seal of approval to fall down her face anymore.

The blond sat next to her, inspecting her hands. "They're bloody," he said dumbly. He wrapped one of the spare rags around one palm, another on the other. She leaned on his chest, her cries twisted into shouts of emotional pain. Wrapping a defensive arm around her, Jerome swung her back and forth, humming a tune of an age-old song his mother used to be obsessed with.

Mara tilted her head upwards to face him. "Jerome?"

"What is it?"

"How do you do it? Mask the pain?"

He gave her a laugh, and what stung about it was that it was so hollow, so devoid of the charms she'd once loved. (And she still did.) "Ah, that's where you're wrong, Jaffray. I don't hide pain. I don't mask it. I don't even compartmentalise it like most people think I do. It's just that sometimes, you've had enough disappointments in your life for twenty people and you just… stop."

"Stop what?"

"Feeling."

He wiped her bloody face with yet another rag, and he smiled. "Don't you dare think that not being able to feel anything makes you better than anyone else, because it does precisely the opposite. I love Joy like a sister yet… I feel nothing at her death."

They spent most of the night silently holding each other's weight on their shoulders until flecks of sun began to show.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Please review?


	3. Swallows

****Summary:** **With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?****  
>Pairings:<strong>** Amfie, angsty!Jara friendship, Mickra, Mick/Alfie/Amber friendship  
><strong>Setting:<strong> AU. One year Post S2.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Cursing, **gore, character death,** attempted & implied sexual abuse  
><strong>Notes:<strong> We're over halfway through! You have no idea how happy I am because wow, I actually committed to something! Also, gold star for anyone who guesses the song used in this chapter correctly without the use of Google (and a preview of the next chapter).

**Torture! Violence! Death! If this stuff ain't your cup of tea, I suggest you skip this chapter. Don't worry; the later chapters will reveal all that happened here.**

* * *

><p>Amber's favourite thing about Alfie was the fact that he made her laugh. Her second favourite was his hair.<p>

Unlike most of the male residents in Anubis House, it never hung limp against his frame or stuck to his scalp during the rain. It stayed fluffy in whatever situation: before sports, when she tried to do his hair on dates, even when he'd just taken a shower and she accidentally bumped into him in the corridor. Now, as she ran her hands through those black wires her fingers called home, it gave her a much-needed reminder of _those_ days.

The days where it felt like a joy to be alive.

She remembered the first time her fingers traced his scalp, gently pushing their habitants out of the way. It had been one night where she couldn't bear to sleep in her own bed, one night when Piper Williamson had been in the house. She crept into his bed after a Sibuna meeting and just stayed there, listening to his sighs and drawing a mind-map of his form. He moved at some point, turning to face her with this stupid grin on his face – dreaming about _her_, probably – but that made Amber realise the strength of this strange scent she'd later always associated with his hair.

It was distinct, but in a way that she found indescribable. Hell, she couldn't even say a word about it if she tried except for the fact that it was _Alfie's._ She didn't know if it had to do with the raging hormones in his body or maybe she was just attracted to his pheromones or musk, as Mara would say. She didn't know, because she sucked at biology and such things never mattered to her.

Untangling herself from the mess that was him, Amber flashed him her most gratuitous smile.

He smiled back.

* * *

><p>Mick wished he was – Lord helped him – more like Alfie.<p>

At least in terms of build, Mick and Alfie differed greatly. The latter had a wiry build and was barely toned no matter how hard he tried. The former was almost the precise opposite: toned in all the right places, but not to extremes. That made it almost impossible for the blond to fit in his companion's clothes. To his advantage, the darkness of the tunnels helped to cloak his hair colour so that one wouldn't know the difference.

He slept most of the previous day. Rufus hadn't been back for three days, which was a relief. Alfie and Amber hadn't seen each other for nearly an eternity, and Mick wasn't sure how much longer they could go without each other.

Speaking of which, the blond hated being rational or thinking things through, but he found Rufus's lengthy absence odd. Small council meetings did not usually last this long. A couple of hours maybe, but _days?_ The blond wondered if the man had chosen to present himself in front of the general populace, exerting more of Senkhara's power. The woman had already stepped on these people and put her full weight on them – what reinforcement did she need?

At this rate, Mick would rather have Jerome rule the place.

Steps cascaded down the tunnels, and by the rattling of metal it came from the staircase.

_Shit._

Despite Mara's intensity at training him to be, Mick never had the capability to be light footed. His bulging form made it difficult for him to tread lightly – both physically and metaphorically – and he always broke a few branches. He wondered how Jerome, Fabian, even Amber could do better in that department. Though unlike him, they'd been hunting down Egyptian relics for two years, so stealth had to be near the top of their list of priorities.

The steps continued, and Mick pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. He was not, and it was unlike him to doze off on temporary watch. This was happening, and he only had a matter of minutes to react before Rufus arrived. This would foil Fabian's six-month plan, and Amber and Alfie might actually end up dead. He could never forgive himself for that; he'd been through enough already, being separated from the love of his life.

He was spared no choice. Darting through the corridors, Mick ran as fast as his feet could carry him, his steps bouncing off the walls and into Rufus's ears. His spine wanted to kill him, but at least his speed was half of what it was. He could hear the dickhead's voice all the way from here, summoning Alfie – wondering _what the fuck is going on, little twat?_ – and receiving no reply. "Fucking _hell,"_ he snarled, claws digging into the blond's flesh, "you are under my command, boy! Answer me!"

Mick curled his hand into a fist and thumped it against the door. "Come on," he hissed under his breath, his fist banging and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Open the fucking door, you lovebirds. This really isn't the time – "

The door creaked, and he was dragged inside.

* * *

><p>Rufus wondered about the sudden chaos that had developed in the tunnels. He knew it was real, for he never had reason to believe in the figments of his imagination. Immortal life is his, just as the tales made it out to be. What weight did fairy tales have against reality when the latter was better than any storybook ending? He was going to be alive forever: he could see everything he wanted to if he tried.<p>

The man glided across the damp floor – a discarded sword was found along the way – and paused outside the door, his ears widening to process the conversation inside.

" – Mick, you tore my clothes _again._ You would think that six months out of your Viking diet – "

" – shut up, will you? Give me my clothes back – "

" – he'll be back soon, for goodness sake! Hurry up you two – "

" – _shit._ I think I left your sword in the tunnels – "

" – we don't have time for this! Just give me my shit and I'll give you yours – "

And so it went on, for several minutes. There was a thud as someone snuck themselves beneath the bed and a hiss from one of the others – probably the pretty, pretty blonde – at his indolence. Not one for dawdling, Rufus forced himself to wait outside until he supposed enough time had passed.

His isolation allowed him to ponder upon the third voice. He knew the other two well, but the third was foreign. They had called him Mick, and according to registration no one had entered the Anubis vicinity in months. Parents were shooed away by the barriers, and no one was stupid enough to call police or inspectors. The only Mick they had on record bore the Campbell name, and he was supposed to be dead months ago.

_Oh Rutter, _he thought snidely. _You have outdone yourself this time._

He pushed the door with a simple push, the hinge caving in after so many years of disuse and the wooden block tumbling to the ground. Several splinters leaped and headed towards the blonde's direction. They fell before they could reach the bed. She whimpered, holding the sheets closer towards her. A figure stood in front of her bed, his belt presently empty.

"What are you doing in here, Lewis?" Rufus leered. "And where is your pre-assigned weapon?"

"I'm afraid that the intruder must have taken it, sir," he responded promptly, not skipping a beat, "there was one in here last night, and I attempted to fight them off. He disarmed me, you see. He's probably taken it." He gave the blonde behind him a furtive glance. "I had to check on Miss Millington to see if she's okay, which is why I'm here right now."

"Then explain to me why I have your sword." The man unsheathed the blade from his back. "It seems that you are less adept of tackling intruders to a hidden base than your reports have led me to believe. The fact that you allow yourself to be disarmed should be marked as a failure on hand-to-hand combat, yet you _passed_ this portion."

Rufus sheathed his weapon for a moment, taking long strides towards the bed. The blonde looked nothing short of confused intermingling with the fear for her guard. The man kicked the space beneath the bed, only slightly surprised not to hear a whimper. He could feel flesh beneath his foot – how wonderful it would be if he could crush its soul – and that gave him all the confirmation he needed.

His scrutiny moved to the teenagers in the room with him. His guard seemed puzzled but not terrified. As always, little Millington seemed like she'd just seen a ghost. She buried her head beneath the pieces of fabric. Rufus ripped the blankets away from her head, thrusting them upon the ground. She crawled to retrieve them, knobbly limbs lightly grazing the ground. "When I am in the room, young _lady,"_ he thundered, lightly mocking her at the word lady, "I expect to see your pretty face." He stopped her mid-crawl, grabbing her face between the pads of his fingers and making her face him. Their faces were inches apart, and his hot breath fell on her lips. She tried to flinch away, but he did not let her. "And all of it."

Mewling, Millington snuck back into the shadow of her bed. Rufus tried his best not to shake his head at the girl. Had she not forgotten how much he hated it when someone objected to his wishes? He verbalised this thought to the girl, and Lewis shifted his eyes microscopically: a death glare. The man would love to muse on how stupidly lovesick this boy was, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

Rufus aimed a kick under the bed. "Move out of there, Campbell. You don't have to hide for your princess anymore." Nothing shook except for the cobwebs that had rooted themselves in the wooden bedframe. "This is not funny. You can stop the charade now!" he proclaimed, his mouth wide in a smirk.

When still, nothing moved, Rufus took matters into his own hands. He took Campbell by what he presumed was an arm – or leg, as it turned out to be – and pulled him out the bed. The boy's large inertia made it difficult for him to do so. The ninety-eight-year-old growled primitively as he gave one final tug. Growling, the younger blond gripped his shoulder; he'd hurt it.

Rufus _smiled._ It was a grotesque sight by all means, but it was the first true sign of satisfaction he'd felt in weeks and thus something worth remembering. Fucking the pretty girl had lost its novelty, and he'd already crumbled part of whatever Rutter had planned in silent rebellion against his Egyptian compatriot. Ah yes. He was shattering hope once more, just like his father told him he was meant for.

Marching towards Lewis, who was smart enough to show fear, Rufus pointed the sword at his chin, poking at it and suppressing the itch to sink it deeper. "We're going to have a talk."

Little Millington squeaked, her arms hugging the blankets close to her chest. The man shook his head, "Don't worry, pretty girl. We're just going to have a little chat. I'm sure you'll see your guardian angel soon enough."

Leading him by the edge of his blade, Rufus slowly backed towards the tunnel, Lewis's panicked, confused expression giving him the sort of joy he'd been lacking: the result of tasting fear as it traipsed from the boy's head to his tongue. The exposed hole in the middle of the door allowed him to feast upon Millington's distress. Call him a freak, a fool, a godforsaken bastard, but Rufus Zeno also happened to be immortal, and that raised him above all others on this stupid earth.

Some day, all these souls will be his.

* * *

><p>Amber woke up in the middle of the night, something – or someone – pulling her towards the hinterlands of her mind. She tossed and turned on her bed, trying to smother the thoughts away. They wanted her to wake up, to stay awake, to never sleep again. Something horrible was going to happen to her and if she was conscious long enough she could avoid it and maybe get Alfie back.<p>

_He's going through hell now,_ the voice taunted, sounding eerily like her former subconscious but sounding so eerily like _Nina._ (But that couldn't be, because she is dead. Dead inside her head. Ooh, how beautifully that rhymed!) Amber nodded as her focus was solely on the voice's, wrapping the blankets tightly towards her chest. Her chest was constricting into the size of a golf ball and her ribs were begging to expand. _He's going through so much pain now because of you. He_ loves _you, little fool. I thought you love him back._

"I – I do," she stuttered, her lips barely moving. "I l – love h – him with my w – whole heart."

_Then why are you doing nothing about it? How can you sleep so peacefully at night knowing that there could be something wrong with him? He could be dying at this very moment and you're just lying on your sorry backside not doing shit about it._

"W – What can I do? I – I don't even know where he is o – or if Rufus is with him. I c – can't just… go after him alone! It's too dangerous. I have n – no weapon but my fists and I'm not sure if I have th – those." A well of sadness stung her eyes, and she let them fall.

_You_ coward. _How would you feel if he knew you were in danger and he was too selfish to come and rescue you? Won't you feel betrayed that your gallant knight in_ _shining armour isn't as_ chivalrous _as he once was? Look how he took your place in the tunnels, and how he dares to betray orders to see you as often as you saw each other. Don't you want to do the same for him?_

Oh, how it taunted, how it chewed her up and spat her out. How it turned the poor girl upside down. But it was all she had to go on. Mick was asleep and she knew he needed it, Mara was above, and so were everyone else she would usually go to for advice. Besides, this was her head and heart she was speaking to. Surely they had nothing in mind but the best for her right? That was what the books and magazines said. If Fabian and Nina had taught her anything during her glory days, as boring and dull as books were, they always had some hint of truth in them.

She draped the sheets around her to form an ankle-length tunic, thankful that at least some of her fashion sense had remained. Dodging the splinters on the floor, she picked up a particularly sharp piece of wood and gripped it firmly in her palms.

Attempting to trace a path through the tunnels with no guide was an unwise move. She wished that she had the decency to bring a blowtorch or at least nicked the lighter beneath the bed Mick usually played with. The only company she had were the echoes of her footsteps, and she didn't know if they still counted.

Blood dribbled from her forehead as she bumped into yet another wall. She sighed, dismissing its ferric stench. It had long since disgusted her, because she too was revolting and she had to live with its presence on a regular basis.

"Amber."

Every bit of her began to shiver. _How could they possibly be chasing me? I'm doing exactly as I'm told, to go after him._ She continued to walk to her right, her fingers tapping the walls to make sure they were there. The hard feeling of concrete made her heart sink; juxtaposing the sense of comfort she was beginning to fill. She continued.

"Ambi Bambi, where are you?"

_Now you're just being ridiculous._ The moment she finished that though, the wall seemed to disappear. She couldn't feel any solid anywhere she gestured, coming to the realisation that she must be in open space. Hearing her nickname again, she hissed, "Go away!"

"It's me, Alfie! I – I think I can hear your feet. Keep walking."

Her heart leaped. _He's alive. _She began walking in the direction she had previously been walking. "No, you're walking in the opposite direction. T – Try the other way." She did as she was told, her back coming into contact with something solid. She froze. Slowly, she turned around, feeling someone's breaths on her chin. Except… except it seemed to be from below her.

"A – Alfie?" she questioned, trying to feel the rest of the object. She could make out the position of his arms… but she couldn't feel his legs. His chest seemed to be cut in half because after it there was nothing but air going all the way downward. "Whe – I can't see you…"

"Shhh." He didn't reach for her cheek, not the way he usually did. The boy never missed a chance to touch her, to know that he was real and not part of a complicated mirage. She had told him as much, and he'd told her that she made him feel like there was a chance of hope again, that she made him feel pure and worth living. She'd laughed then, saying that comparing her to the quintessence of the divine doesn't make things any better.

"Something's wrong," she whispered, her trembling continuing to worsen. "I – I can't feel your body, Alfie. This is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong – "

"Everything is going to be okay, love." He kissed her nose, but she had a wishful thought that he was aiming somewhere else. "I assure you, we're going to be back in Anubis House eating Trudy's cookies in no time."

"Doesn't change the fact that something's wrong now, though."

She placed her fingers on his face, outlining his cheek and then his lips with her fingertips. Leaning down, the blonde gave him a chaste kiss. "I love you," they both sighed, and giggling when they realised that they said it at the same time.

The room seemed a million times brighter after that.

And it was. Dimly lit for its size, its glow still managed to blind Amber. She was sure that she had not felt artificial lighting of this magnitude in months and her eyes took a while to adjust. She shaded her eyes with one hand, but she could still make out the smug silhouette of Rufus Zeno against the grey backdrop. He was juggling something with one hand, catching it with his thumb and forefinger.

"Happy birthday, Millington!" he sang. She could take her hand away from her eyes, wanting to vomit as she caught sight of his bite-ridden face. "I might be a few months late, but at least I got you a present!" He grandly gestured to the space to her right.

Alfie was tied up. Ropes bounded his wrists met his ankles, his back arching backwards and looking like it was going to snap. The crackling of bone echoed deafeningly in the confines of Amber's mind as she spotted the ligature marks, the patchwork of scars across his body. Her breaths began to deepen as she tried to remain calm. Four seconds in, eight seconds out, as Mick had advised. She clenched her fist around the piece of wood and shut her eyes, trying not to scream in front of Rufus.

_Good,_ the voice in her mind said. _You are keeping calm. Very good. Now try to be his damsel in shining armour. Can you do that?_

_Yes._

"L – Let him go!" Amber stammered, her features scrunched in determination. "Do it or I'll – "

"What? Beat me to death with a rogue piece of wood?" he taunted in a childish tone, cackling. Motioning for her to give it to him, he stepped closer towards her. She shook her head, stepping backwards and poised to run. Rufus snatched it away from her nonetheless, and she faked the look of a helpless puppy for his sake. "Really, Millington. You forget that I'm the immortal one here. You can't touch me even if you tried." He handed her a knife, his hand snaking his way across her arm. "Maybe you'd like to say a few choice words to your lover before you chop him in half?"

"I would never kill him," she croaked. "I would _never_ harm – "

"Ah, but you have, you see," Rufus grinned. The sight made her flinch. "By consorting with him, and vice versa, both of you have disobeyed my direct order not – to – s_peak_ to one another. And let's not forget that you have another child stashed under your bed! If none of that had happened you would still be living your pretty little existence in that bed!" His grin disappeared, his expression contorting into an expression that made her think of cobras. "How the hell did you manage to get a boy out of death row and in here?"

"I – I don't know – "

"Bullshit!" He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y – You cannot find a loophole in the system without planning."

"I – I don't know how Mick got here, I swear!" Amber pleaded, trying to strengthen the dam that was the thin barrier between her breaking down again in front of this man. She would not let herself, not again. _You have to be strong for Alfie. "_I just know that he was here one day, okay? Alfie had nothing to do with it either. Right?"

"Right," Alfie agreed, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He smiled warmly at her, gripping her chocolate-brown eyes onto his. She did the same to him, wishing that she could unbind him and hold his hand and say over and over again how much she loves him –

In front of her, Rufus's body slammed onto the floor like a slab of butter. Behind him stood Mick, grinning as he rubbed his fists. Amber's pupils dilated, and she gave her signature squeal for the first time in months. The blond across from her grinned at his handiwork, "Right. We've only got a few seconds. Did I tell you all the wonderful things that are hidden beneath that bed – "

" – is this for real?" Alfie snapped, "I swear to God, Mick, you're like some sort of deus ex machina. Like, this ain't a fairytale but I really do like – "

"I don't even know what that is, mate!" the blond protested. He rubbed at his back, groaning in pain. He then clumsily tossed a small contraption at Amber, which she caught elegantly for once. "Quick, Ambs! You've got to cut the rope with this. Hurry! I'll hold Rufus off while you get – "

Rufus growled bestially as he leaped from the ground, ramming into Mick. The blond fought him off, trying to grip the older man's torso. They struggled against one another in the corridor: skin for skin, strength for strength, life for death. It seemed that Mick had the upper hand as he shoved Rufus against the wall, punching his chin. The elder man did not seem to want to lose either, one hand clutching the boy's forearm.

Meanwhile, Amber did not hesitate to figure out that Mick somehow found a (very rusty) Swiss Army Knife. She did, however, hesitate to find the knife. When she did find it, she had to go on her tiptoes to reach the master knot that held his limbs. She turned around every few seconds to see if she should help her ex-boyfriend, but Alfie screamed, "No! Don't waste time! Untie me first, then we can worry about backing Mick up!"

She could see the rope slowly being cut, but it was far too slow for her. She attempted gnawing at it with her teeth, but the progress was even worse. She then tried to do both at the same time, alternating every few seconds so that her fingers wouldn't get cramped. Eventually she could see the rope slowly snapping, and she allowed herself a grin before Alfie began to tumble.

At least she caught him, and now she was holding him in a way that was considered compromising by most.

Alfie laughed, "This is the way I'm supposed to be holding you in our wedding."

She rolled her eyes, making an obscure comment on how she wears the pants in this relationship, letting his feet land on the ground and gently pulling him into a kiss. A yelp from Mick's direction jerked them both out of it, and Alfie immediately grabbed the piece of wood Rufus had thrown away and yelled for Mick to run. The blond managed to wriggle out of his grasp, the elder man chasing after him. Alfie frowned and aimed it at the man. The wood hit Rufus's back with a thump, propelling him forwards. Mick managed to skip out of his reach.

Amber heaved a sigh of relief, clutching onto her lover. They leaned in for another kiss as Mick attempted to whack Rufus senseless with the segment of wood.

"Uh," he announced, "can you do your snogging after we actually kill Rufus?"

Amber blushed, while Alfie paced the scene looking for a weapon. Mick rolled his eyes at the lovebirds, showcasing the Swiss Army Knife in one hand. He then stabbed the man four times in the back, retracting the knife and shaking his head. "Well, I hope that's over." Blood stained his fingers, but he found himself ignoring it.

Defying his wishes, Rufus turned on his back and pulled a gun out of his pocket. Alfie immediately stepped in front of his fiancée, while Mick shielded them both. The man laughed, shaking his head. "F – Fools," he snarled. "Haven't you learned by now that loyalty gets you nowhere?" He pointed his gun in Mick's direction, winking at him. "I might as well kill all of you. It will make things a lot more… convenient for me."

Rufus fired a shot, and Mick – _because he's so fucking_ brave, Amber thought – ran towards him, his knife and fist fully loaded. He punched the man in his face and in his parts and in his torso with nothing in his thoughts but to murder and to kill and to make this horrid bastard _pay_ for abusing his friend and torturing her fiancé and for causing so much pain to everyone else.

"You're – you're becoming a monster, Campbell," Rufus crooned, "just like me. What makes you think that you're any different? You're sitting here, beating the shit out of this man you barely even know – "

"At least I don't torture innocent children!" Mick spat. He took his knife and stabbed Rufus in the chest. Blood spurted out of the spot, but Mick felt it wasn't enough. He pushed the knife through layers of muscle, stopping when he hit a layer of bone, probably a rib. He heard the insides of Rufus shred, tear, fall apart. "It's nice to know you're human like the rest of us." Blood poured out of him like a fountain, and the stench and sight of internal organs made Mick dizzy, but it did not prepare him for the picture behind him.

Alfie was on the ground, clutching his shoulder. A bullet lay next to him, and Amber was rocking him back and forth in her arms.

"I love you, Ambs," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut, then flashing open again.

The blonde was in hysterics, shaking her head and sobbing. "I – I love you too," she sniffled, trying to sound coherent through a screen of tears. "O – Oh my God, Alfie. I never got to make love to you, or have our fairy tale wedding, or sign any of my papers as Amber Lewis – "

"We don't have to get married for you to be called Amber Lewis, you know," he mused, almost chuckling. "Our official records are gone, so you can be anyone you want. If we get out of here, remind me to get married first."

"_When,"_ she corrected, her desperation encouraging her sobs to worsen. "We're going to leave here alive and whole and together and we're going to spend the rest of our lives together and we're going to have a family and we're going to live in New York and have an apartment in the Upper East Side and – "

"We both know that's not going to happen, Amber," Alfie said weakly. He reached for her hand, and he squeezed it gently. "But I do have one thing to ask of you. I – I'm getting cold."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and nodded ardently. "Anything."

"Live," he whispered, "live for me. Do the things I never could. Travel the world and stand up to your dad. Tell Jerome he's a complete asshole and tell Joy I'm sorry." They both laughed, "B – But I feel so – so cold right now."

"I'm here," she mumbled. "I'm always here. You're warm, you're the warmest thing in the universe and beyond." She tilted his head upwards, connecting their lips for as long as she could. "Oh my God, Alfie. You're actually dying. You have no idea how many things I want to say."

"From where I'm standing, there's only one thing. I do."

"I do."

"That's the Amber Lewis I know and love."

She releases a chuckle before she realises that he's not giggling back at her, and that his chest isn't rising up and down anymore but completely still. His mouth is upturned in a grin resembling one from his glory days. She attempts one too so he can remember her this way, and she runs her palm over his eyelids. His scent floats through the air like a reminder of his existence, and she spends too much time in the pool of blood next to him, curled up next to his cooling body like a child.

No tears fell from her eyes, nor did any fall from Mick's. It seemed stupid to cry and yell at the fact that Alfred Marmaduke Lewis was dead, because he was, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

_"My love,"_ she sang, her voice deafening in the still room, _"leave yourself behind..."_


	4. Revolution

****Summary:** **With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?****  
>Pairings:<strong>** angsty!Jara friendship, Peddie, slight Fabina  
><strong>Setting:<strong> AU. One year Post S2.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Cursing, **gore, character death,** attempted & implied sexual abuse  
><strong>Notes:<strong> One more chapter left after this! So we've reached the climax, and everything comes to a head next chapter. Still a fair amount of gore and slightly less character death in this one, so viewer discretion is advised.

* * *

><p>Senkhara gave herself one more look in her full-length mirror. The dress worn by the form of the Paragon had belonged to her roommate. Its shade reminded her of the salmon fished by her subjects thousands of years ago. She hated to admit that it did not suit her body type, but she had no time to spare to look for another.<p>

Already compromising by using something called eye shadow (it did not, in the least bit, shadow her eyes) instead of her old pot of blessed kohl, the woman thought that frankly, she looked horrible. Her eyes were an odd shade and looked a mess – since when did _lavender_ go well with _salmon_ – and she regretted not asking the Osirian's wife for help. From the amount of eyeliner she put on herself, it was evident that she was an expert on the tool.

"You do not regret," she snarled, mimicking the low voice of her father, "you do not wish. What is done is done. You _are_ self-sufficient because if you are not, you will not survive." Her nails looked fine, at least. They'd been cut to their predetermined cone-like shape yesterday, and its effects have not worn off. The forgotten Queen had coated it in black nail polish. (She wondered how the thing polished anything when all it did was paint. Stupid modern civilisation and their strange names.)

She closed her eyes, letting go of the Paragon's physical form and returning to the thing she was meant to do today. She was not nervous as opposed to acting it; it seemed a travesty to act emotionless in front of the public. There must always be some sort of feeling to her actions. She had to be angry or restless or confused. Apparently there was some sort of stigma against not caring about death or violence, no matter how rampant it was. If anything, the more widespread it was the more reason it gave people to care.

Some things haven't changed in over three millennia.

Three knocks echoed the front of her door. Senkhara smoothed her dress to rid it of any creases before she walked towards it, trying not to trip. The Queen had spent a lot of time practicing her gait in these blasted shoes, high on one side and low on the other. This led to one of the few things the Egyptian admired about the Paragon's roommate: she could probably walk in these, no problem.

Granted, the poor blonde must've been insane, or at least she should be now.

A smirk traced her features as she opened the door, revealing the Osirian and his wife linking arms, and the Paragon's so-called Chosen One standing alone. He extended his arm, which Senkhara took. She devoured the square suit he chose to dress himself in, which accented his facial bone structure. They looked odd on mannequins, but on him they looked nice. Not to mention he looked particularly –

"You look beautiful, my Queen," the Osirian noted, giving her a kind smile. Nothing in his eyes sparkled until he turned to his wife, and she saw the sparks catching.

"You look very handsome yourself, Osirian," Senkhara remarked, almost jerking at the lack of spite in her words. She linked her arm with Rutter's, realising at once why the Paragon had treasured him so, with his kind, sincere, curious expression that seemed to snuff whenever she said his name.

Oh Anubis help her; she was going soft.

"Shall we go, then?" Rutter questioned, and there was no reason for the woman not to accept his firm offer. After all, her kingdom – as small as it was – was waiting.

* * *

><p>Mara could feel the stares on her. More specifically, her slightly protruding belly. Though it had been slowly expanding for some months, it continued to remain a freak show for the school to gaze at whenever they got bored. Not even Jerome's glares could send them away, but she had gotten used to them. She supposed that they gave her the attention she'd always craved, even if it was not for a good thing.<p>

Jerome's eyes did not fall off her for one second as he met up with his baby sister. Mara observed how she had grown from a girl to a woman in the space of a year. Gone is the cocky ponytail and the childish pigtails: her hair was cut at a hard angle, and the former bookworm found herself looking up at the younger Clarke when they could see eye to eye the year before. Knee socks were replaced by ink tattoos drawn by Sharpies. Believe it or not, Poppy Clarke had grown up.

"Don't let anyone catch you," Jerome warned, tightly squeezing his sister. He planted a kiss to her forehead. "We're Clarkes, after all. First, we don't get caught, and if we do no one's got your back. Are you sure you want to do this, Poops?"

"It's okay, Gerbil. Don't fret," she grinned, "I've got this." She gave Mara a sideways glance, "You go get your chosen one, and enjoy tonight's feast while you can."

Poppy bounced towards the school's cafeteria – now dining hall, she assumed; no one came up with a new name for it – with her friends in tow, and it was far too difficult with the behemoth of people to tell that she was there. Wrapping a protective arm around Mara, Jerome slowly led them into the hall. Mara was glad that no one could see the sweat forming on her face and the worry that clouded her vision. Patricia and Eddie and Fabian and Ni – no, _Senkhara_ – would be seated at the front, carrying the heavier part of the plan.

"I'm worried," Mara admitted, settling into a table close to her former housemates. Fabian smiled at her, while Patricia and Eddie were too absorbed by each other's presence, as usual. She could never blame them, but her heart felt a pang for Mick.

Jerome rubbed her back. "Stop worrying," he sighed, "babies don't quite like it when you do. Besides, I'm worried too." He pressed Mara closer to him. "There are only two outcomes tonight. We're either happy, or fucked. The happy one is, we manage to get the Senkhara out of Nina, get our friend back, and we live happily ever after."

"What's the fucked up version, then?"

He began to laugh bitterly. "Haven't you figured it out? We all die, of course."

* * *

><p>Fabian knew that Joy was dead. Jerome had told him several days before, and to prove it Mara seemed pretty shook up even now. That automatically meant that he, Eddie and Patricia couldn't back out of their portion of the plan, like they would anyway. Scuttlebutt was (he still wondered <em>why<em> Eddie used such an odd term even if he knew the meaning) the Farmers are experiencing water shortages which Senkhara refused to remedy, and are planning for an ambush later in the feast.

He looked down on his hand to see that Senkhara was holding it, her face reminding him of one of Nina's playful expressions that she gave when she was flirting with him. (Granted, the only reason it did was because she was wearing _her_ face. If she did that in her true form, the boy would have run for the hills.) "Oh," he observed softly, knowing that jerking it away would be a stupid move.

"I apologise, Rutter," Senkhara replied, "I am to make a speech the moment the people settle in, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to use the contact of our hands in order to emphasise a point." She frowned. "Tell me. Does human contact always make people so swayed? Back in my day, touch between opposite genders was frowned upon, especially when one of them are bonded. It is a sign of infidelity."

_What the hell?_ Fabian shook his head. "It depends on the people, I suppose," he offered, trying his best to be helpful. "If you're friends with that person it's just a sign of friendship. It completely depends on each case. For example, we are colleagues. It would be somewhat acceptable to hold hands."

"Somewhat?" Senkhara questioned, her face holding confusion – ah, there weakness was – for a few milliseconds before returning to their usual satisfied aura. "I see, I see." She nodded, before clearing her throat. She held his hand. "Do you mind if I start making my speech now? I am going to need you to stand up beside me."

Fabian nodded, and he stood up right after she did. The crowd turned to face them, and he wore his broadest smile. He was lucky that he had both Jerome _and_ Eddie as reachable friends; they had charming, effortless smiles while his were awkward at best. Even with a year's worth of practise it hadn't gotten _that_ much better even with their extremely guided help, but at least he looked like a fairly impressionable leader instead of the school's biggest bookworm. He was met with glares as opposed to the admiration he once coveted for being intelligent, but that was something.

Such things failed to matter the moment Senkhara opened her mouth. "Citizens!" she exclaimed. "Friends! Fellow fighters of the world! One year has passed since my coronation. I thank all of you for putting your lives in my hands. As you can see, we have achieved numerous milestones, and today's feast is a crown jewel, my gratitude, to see the fruits of your labour."

On cue, waiters streamed from the dingy kitchen with dishes. There was stuffed turkey (that would've made Nina laugh, Fabian thought bitterly) and shepherd's pie and chicken wings… it was actual food that looked recently cooked and not the gloop he'd seen Mara have to stomach. Most of the younger years seemed rather fascinated by the spread, some even having the nerve to reach across their table to touch. Their wrists were promptly smacked, and Fabian's mood soured as Senkhara's grin widened.

"As I was saying," she continued, "I have given all of you a reward. Curfew is lifted for tonight, but I do expect you to use this privilege wisely. Those who do not follow this… well, they know where they'll end up, don't they?" She raised Fabian's hand up into the air, their intertwined fingers put on a pedestal. "Together, we raise our glasses to another year of prosperity! Progress! The promise of a world that is ours!"

The deafening hollers wanted to pop Fabian's ears out, but as she said he raised his glass. There was an awful lot of clinking from Mara to Jerome to Poppy to Robbie to Fabian to Eddie to Patricia to Senkhara – and it was put to a stop when the Queen began to drain her glass. Nearly all of the populace followed, except for Mara, who Fabian could see gave her offering of wine to Jerome. He smiled wanly at this gesture; the blond had been through far too much, even if he declined to show it.

The feast had begun, and Fabian made sure that everyone catered to Senkhara's every need. He began to grow concerned for her affinity with the wine as she empty one, then two, then three glasses. Its body, as the brunet was proud to know, had never drunk that much alcohol in one night and he wasn't sure if it could cope with all those excess toxins. _At least she ate,_ he noted. _That might help._ She had far too many helpings of food, as she said, but it didn't refrain her from taking more.

Soon, her reactions began to slow. She began to groan about how late the night was, but course after course was served and her whines were reduced to grumbles. Fabian advised the woman not to take anymore wine, but she of course refused, and eventually there was a point where she was asleep on her throne in front of everyone. The brunet tilted his head in curiosity until his eyes fell on Eddie, who gestured towards Robbie, who in turn gestured towards Jerome.

Before Fabian could reprimand him, something clattered to the floor. It was a large pot, and soon he could see Poppy Clarke and her friends shoving food off the table. Shards of glass were on the floor, and Jerome was smirking at his sister as he too began throwing some of the food in Mara's direction. She chuckled, dumping some pasta on his head.

"Enough!" the Commander bellowed, but Robbie, who aimed a flapjack on his face, silenced him. The man growled, unsheathing his dagger. It was taken by one of the younger years. Trying to escape him, she tripped on some of the shards of glass. One got stuck in her eye and she shrieked, letting go of the dagger she was carrying. It darted through the air and hit the guard's stomach.

Soon, there was blood pooling on the ground. Some pupils stopped to watch, screaming once they realised what they'd found. One of the smaller students began attacking one of the guards in retaliation, but Fabian rushed down his pedestal fast enough to restrain him. In return the brunet received a few scratches on his suit, but he couldn't care less. He gave his black blazer to the injured student, wrapping it around her head and to go find someone who could help.

He turned to find Patricia and Eddie missing. The brunet frowned, realising at once that this was not part of the plan. What was worse was that Nina's body was gone, and according to Occam's razor, the Millers had taken them to do God knows what.

Fabian could sense that the first casualty of the night was not the last.

* * *

><p>Havoc began as guards tried to defend an unnecessary stronghold, and the children began taking out several months worth of unexpressed rage. The corpses of slain guards and youngsters began to pile up, and from what Fabian could tell none of them were Jerome, Mara or Poppy. The younger Clarke was heading the ambush, her fist jabbing against someone who was a foot taller than her. He couldn't find the other two, and he hoped they were fine.<p>

But he couldn't worry about his friends now. The fate of the rest of them was still under his hands, and from the way he just lost the body he was this close to completely fucking up the entire situation. He couldn't wait for another year, for another feast, any more time his rage wanted to bubble and kill every living thing that got near him. Any more time without Nina.

Fabian dashed out of the hall, thankful for his shoes that glass couldn't penetrate its soles. He hastily ran towards Anubis House, hoping that Occam would be right a second time.

Jerome and Mara made their way out of the frenzy in seconds, landing themselves in their old drama room. In his arms was a pile of food. They had locked the door, attempting to eat as pterodactyl screeches bounced off the wall, implying mortality or someone getting severely injured. The blond could see Mara bite the corner of her lip in fear, and not even her favourite – toad-in-the-hole – could get her to relax.

"What did I tell you about worrying?" he reminded, gesturing towards the food.

Mara gave him an uneasy smile. "I shouldn't be in here, Jerome. I should be out there, helping people. That's what I'm supposed to do." She brushed a lock out of her vision. "That's all I've ever done."

"But you need some time for yourself. I'm not letting anyone commit one count of double homicide tonight," the blond countered, handing Mara a chip. "Go on. Eat."

She takes it from his hand, biting it apprehensively before contemplating on something. Swallowing, she sighed as she had mouth after mouth of food. He did the same, his eyes carefully observing her every move as well as trying to keep her eyes off the blood that was seeping through the door. It was unlucky that she managed to read through him, her expression turning into one of disgust. She stood up from her position, folding her arms.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing about _that,_ Jerome! There are people out there that need help and my expertise can _save_ them," Mara pleaded, shaking her head and stomping quickly towards the door. She dismissed Jerome's parted mouth. "I thought the whole point of tonight was to rescue everyone, not to let everyone murder each other! Your sister could be in danger – "

Jerome grabbed her wrist, pulling her close to him. "Did you really think that I didn't think that through, risks and all, Mara Jaffray?" he retaliated. He loosened his grip on her, forgetting how much she hated being held tightly. "Unlike you, my sister is not pregnant and has influence beyond my reach, and if there's anything she knows how to do it's to protect herself."

"But you can't just defy fate! You never know if someone's planning for her to die tonight or not even if half the school loves her. She could be dying right now and you don't even know it! Don't you want to see her?"

His eyes softened at the thought of his dead sister, and he nodded. "Fine, but you're sticking with me no matter how shitty things get, okay?" he hissed, unlocking the door. Mara squeezed his hand as they found a dead teenager surrounded by a pool of blood. Both of them could identify the stab wounds on his shirt, and their soles steeped in red. They rushed towards the hall, realising that most of the chaos had moved towards the corridors. There was too much ichor, stained steel, sobbing youngsters holding their deceased friends. Mara swallowed, inching towards Jerome as she thought about the friend they'd buried several days ago.

The hall was still crowded enough to hide the both of them as they scanned the scene for Poppy. Jerome's eyes found their way to a boy – no older than thirteen by the looks of him – holding a circular object in his palm. He threw it towards the side of the room after pulling something out of it. The blond's mouth gaped, and he rushed him and Mara out of the room.

"Jerome!" Mara complained, "you said – "

_Bang._ The blast hurtled both of them forward, with Jerome pulling Mara to land on top of him. Shock rushed through Mara's veins as she wondered if her baby would be okay, but she had no time as he got them to their feet and sprinted out of the room. Plumes of grey smoke blurred their vision, and they coughed until they reached the hallway. No one cared about the blood anymore. Everyone was rushing out of the building, carrying the fallen on their shoulders. Jerome's head whipped back and forth, ocean eyes dark with terror.

"Poppy!" he called, receiving no reply. He could not be heard over the shrieks of the others, and he soon realised that there was no more fighting. Guards and Farmers were helping each other heal, and nurses and apprentices were busy trying to tend to everyone. Mara attempted to help, managing to stop one of her friends as they elbowed past her shoulder.

"Where's Poppy?" she asked, the friend wiping a tear from her eye.

"Dunno," she said timidly, barely audible. "Haven't seen 'er in ages… last time I saw 'er she was runnin' from the dinin' hall. Dunno where she wanted to go… now if you'd excuse me – "

Jerome allowed her to pass, and the realisation of having to search every nook and cranny of the school for her dawned on him. However, he was sure that he'd just witnessed someone blow up a grenade in the middle of a school. These things did not just occur once in attacks, if he'd learned anything during history. They were bound to happen again until the rubble overwhelmed even the perpetrators. Shaking his head, Jerome ran until he found the front entrance of the school. Mara trailed not too far behind him.

"Go to Anubis House," he directed, flicking her off his wrist. She staggered several steps away from him, the chaos of students barely discouraging her from returning to him. She shook her head, a tear falling out of her eye.

"I'm not going to leave you to do this alone, Jerome. I don't want you to go," she begged, "I love Poppy as much as you do, and you…" She flung her arms around him, leaning upwards to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'm so sorry. About Mick, and about acting like an ungrateful bitch. I… you must hate me now."

"I've never stopped loving you," Jerome replied. Both of them could see his smile was cracking, a tear threatening to dispose the mask he'd spent too long trying to build. "Which is why you're going to have to go to Anubis House. You'll be safer there. Alone, maybe. But safe."

His eyes slowly turned towards the school, but before he could fully lose sight of her, Mara pulled him down and captured his open lips within hers. "I don't want to go," she whispered, letting go and grasping her hand in his. "I do love you, Jerome. I love you a lot. Just not – "

" – I get it, and don't worry about me." They gazed at their hands, so warm and put together unlike the chaos behind them. He let go first, giving her his best smile as he turned back towards the madness. "Go. I'll see you on the other side, yeah?"

"Positive," she smiled, wiping a tear away from the cheek. She turned away.

Jerome scampered inside the moment another blast took off, and he was sure it was from inside someone's body. Intestinal parts and blackened stomach slapped his cheek. He rubbed them off his face, and missed no time picking himself up. He began running towards the old Year Nine lockers, which were to his left. To his joy, she found him.

"What the hell are you doing back here? And what are you playing at?" she snarled, gesturing to the bedlam of boys playing with someone's corpse. "I'm trying to get my men and move us out, and considering your girlfriend isn't with you anymore you have no business to be here."

"Actually, I do," he countered, clutching her wrist and cocking his head towards the exit. There was a boom from down the doorway, and Poppy shook her head. "See what I mean? I have to get the both of us out of here alive."

"I'm not you, Jerome!" she yelled, "I don't just save my own skin while everyone else gets fucked." She shoved her arm downwards, freeing herself from her brother's grip. "Let _go_ of me, Gerbil! Haven't you noticed that it's the seventh circle of Hell down here? I have been with these guys for a year, and we've been through some deep shit. You have to let me save them."

"What kind of a brother am I if I don't care about your life?"

Fire consumed their vision as they felt the ground collapse beneath them. Poppy shrieked, gripping her brother's waist with one arm. The ceiling quaked, and Jerome attempted to run towards the exit, except he could feel his knees caving in. Again, the younger shrieked, her panting all he could hear. He knew that the exit wasn't too far away, and if they were able – which they very much were – they could reach it in time and make their way to Anubis House.

Lockers began to tumble as the force of the blast began to expand. Jerome lifted Poppy into his arms, and he dodged his way through numerous people to make it to the exit. However, when he got there he discovered that slabs of concrete had blocked it. Before he could complain about it, however, the ceiling disintegrated, crushing Jerome's head. All he could see was golden hair, which belonged to his sister before his blue eyes went black.

(This time, Team Clarke lost.)

* * *

><p>Fabian slammed the door shut behind him as he found the Millers hunched over Nina's body. His brows furrowed and a growl escaped his grit teeth. Eddie found his presence first, shaking his head. "I swear, Fabian," he replied, "this is for our own good. If we stab her in public everyone's gonna go nuts and accuse us of treason. Then we're stuck in the gatehouse like a bunch of kicked puppies."<p>

"You could've told me about all of this!" the brunet yelled, almost softening at how peaceful she looked. He wished that he didn't know the circumstances and unambiguously thought that she was just asleep and not drugged with wine. "And if history's taught me anything, the crumble of a dictator leads to chaos and revolutionary movements, and considering no one wants to be under her rule anyway we'll get independence that we've always wanted. And our lives back!"

"Too late to do anything about it now!" Patricia snapped. She handed Fabian a dagger by its hilt. "The pill wears off in a couple of minutes, so we don't have much time. Eddie will literally kill himself if he stabs you, and I don't even know where her heart is on her chest because biology hates me, and that leaves you to do this."

The door slammed a second time to break the silence, revealing Mara. Her eyes were bloodshot and her fingers were trembling. The white dress specially picked for her from Patricia's wardrobe was stained with skin and ichor. When she saw Nina's sleeping form, the raven-haired woman crumbled again, rushing to Patricia's side and wrapping her arms around her friend.

"Jer – Jerome's gone," she spluttered, shaking her head in denial. "He t – tried to save his… his sister… the, the school… it's gone… everyone's g – gone…"

The redhead looked almost as shook up, as Mara was, her eyes downcast. "Okay, okay," she whispered, _"que sera, sera,_ as Mr. Sweet would've said. I think. Let's… let's go somewhere else to talk about this, yeah? The boys need to talk." Mara nodded. Standing up, the two women left the room, the door clicking behind them.

Fabian shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to do this anymore," he said, deflated.

Eddie looked livid the moment he said that. "Wow, Rutter. And you think I do? Watching the Chosen One's boyfriend stab her and of course, being her Osirian and her protector etcetera, this is _clearly_ one of my favourite hobbies of all time," he deadpanned. "I don't backstab people even if it's tempting, literally or otherwise."

Fabian was beyond listening to one of his closest friends. His fingers crawled all over her chest in search of that cavity where he could hear that beating heart. As soon as he found it, he paused, laying his palm to that spot. _Thump. Thump._

It was difficult to believe that this heart belonged to both the love of his life and the bane of his existence.

Fabian pointed his knife at his palm. Removing his palm from her chest, Fabian dove his knife deep into his skin, and paused halfway up the blade. If he was right – and this was as long as he thought it was – this would be about three and a half inches deep, well within the range of Mara's calculations. He jerked his hand away from the hilt, and a drop of silver bubbled from beneath her skin.

Patting his back, Eddie saw at once that one bubble became two, and the bubbles slowly formed a stream of silver. Yanking the dagger away, Fabian shook his head at what was occurring. Soon, a cloud of black formed above him, spinning and whirling until it resembled a tornado. Senkhara's face could be made out in the shadows, screaming and howling something Fabian rightly assumed was Egyptian. As quickly as it began, the tornado stopped, and there was no residue of the black.

Except for the liquid dribbling out of Nina's lips.


	5. Denouement

****Summary:** **With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?****  
>Pairings:<strong>** Fabina, Peddie, Mickara... I think that's it.  
><strong>Setting:<strong> AU. One year Post S2.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Cursing, gore, character death, attempted & implied sexual abuse  
><strong>Notes: <strong>This is quite a short chapter in comparison to the rest, and it doesn't have that much gore and character death. Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and my erratic writing style this entire time. Now, on to the end! Thank you so much Dancing Through Daisies and bs13 for being awesome and reviewing every chapter, bs13 for hosting the contest, and Hannah, I love you.

* * *

><p>Quicksilver sat in stagnant puddles on the floor.<p>

Fabian kept his gaze on his blonde ex-girlfriend while Eddie lay in a tangled heap on the chairs they'd brought in. He could hear Patricia and Mara try and make breakfast, the former characteristically whining about how the stove didn't work and the latter trying to reassure her that all was well. The brunet found himself amused, even laughing at how absurd his friends were being. His smile later faded when he remembered that Nina was still dead. Alive. Somewhere in between.

"Nina," he mumbled, removing the blanket that covered her and clasping her hand within his. She was still so warm. "Please wake up. Come home to us."

He could hear the blaring of sirens outside, and it was the first time a loud noise managed to comfort him. He knew that the police were busy trying to get everyone home to their parents, back to warm arms and maybe to another school where they can get on with the rest of their lives if they were lucky enough.

Eddie grumbled, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. The Osirian gave his roommate a solemn smile before heading downstairs, exclaiming something to do with pancakes and if his wife had burnt down the kitchen yet. Fabian sighed; yet again appreciating the gleeful outlook he always had despite the bleak circumstances. (It was partly because of _Patricia_, of course. Their happiness rested on each other's wit and catty outbursts, no matter how weird it seemed.)

The brunet turned to the window, seeing Jerome's ghostly silhouette lounging idly on the windowsill. He had a complacent smirk planted on his face, swinging his legs back and forth. "Did you get any sleep, Rutter?" he mused, his voice sounding wry and blunt as it would have.

"No," Fabian replied, sighing. "I was too busy watching over Nina."

"Lovebirds," the blond teased. He chuckled, throwing his head back. Fabian laughed too, turning his gaze to the floor in front of him.

Three knocks on the door made him turn, and he saw that it was Mara, looking at him sheepishly. She allowed herself in and sat beside him, sighing.

"Who were you talking to?" she questioned.

Fabian wondered at her level tone, her timid question, and the fact that she wasn't calling him crazy for conversing with the ghost of his unexpected confidant. _Perhaps she too is going through something similar. _"Jerome," he said limply, focusing his attention back on blonde waves and crystal sky eyes that were hidden beneath firmly shut eyelids. He missed them far too much.

Mara's lips simply formed an o, and she nodded. Sometime later, she poked Fabian lightly on the wrist. "Did – did you know?" she asked demurely, rubbing her wrist.

Fabian frowned, his heartbeat slowly picking up, "Did I know what?"

"Did you know th – that… that he loves me?"

_Loves,_ he noted. _Not loved._ "Yes," he replied curtly. She saw part of her face brighten, which was an improvement on her previous crestfallen expression. "Just because you didn't see it doesn't make you stupid, Mara. He's not like most people when it comes to expressing his emotions."

"Yes, but I should've known. He trusted me." She shook her head. "Maybe if I did know, things would've turned out differently. He could still be alive." She sat next to Fabian. "We finally buried Joy. She's resting in peace at the back of Anubis House, along with… well, you know."

"I – "

The bedframe began to rattle. Mara and Fabian could feel the ground giving in from beneath them. Mara squealed as she fell to the ground, clutching the chair. The curtains flew open and all the lights that had been on were now off.

One of Nina's old photo frames on her bedside table contained a picture of her, Amber and Fabian during a now long-forgotten trip to Alton Towers. It clattered to the ground, the tempered glass shattering. It triggered an abrupt stop that jerked Mara and Fabian upwards, their heads banging against the ceiling. Mara lay unconscious on the floor as she hit it with a thud. Fabian, however, stayed awake long enough to look into the eyes that he'd nearly forgotten.

Eyes the colour of the sky, the ocean and everything in between.

* * *

><p>Nina felt odd as she sat with Anubis House – or rather, what was left of it – for dinner. Patricia and Eddie were illegally together (though they planned to change that the moment they finished secondary school), Fabian was looking far too sad, and Mara kept bursting into tears whenever someone mentioned Jerome or Mick. The blonde didn't blame her; hearing of Mick, Amber and Alfie's deaths made her want to puke.<p>

When dinner was over, Nina decided to take a walk to reflect. Most of the surrounding houses were empty; most of their inhabitants were either gone or dead. _And all in my hands,_ she thought bitterly. She gazed at the body she possessed, still amazed how she can make herself walk and talk. Hibernation was a relief from angsty teenage thoughts, but control is a godsend.

Fabian ran after her, of course, because she could still tell by the look in his eyes that even after all she's done – more accurately, what Senkhara forced her to do – that he still loved her, the Chosen One who wanted nothing more than her friends safe and a life to call her own, preferably without Egyptian mysteries and metaphysical responsibilities that she still did not understand.

Nina waited for him like he waited for her even after all this time, and he didn't hesitate to link their arms together. "I – " he began, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, feeling the warmth of the emotion creep back into her system. He leaned in and so did she, kissing for the first time in years. Abruptly, he pulled back, pinching himself. Nina caught herself laughing. "Am I supposed to believe that Senkhara fucked up this bad?" She frowned as she caught sight of a slash on his ear. "Oh God, please don't tell me – "

"Yeah, you slashed a sword across my ear," Fabian replied. He removed her hand from his ear. "Don't worry about it, though. Eddie has become one hell of a nurse due to my clumsy mannerisms nowhere near improving despite your persistence."

"Nurse Eddie?" Nina echoed, giggling at the thought. "I'm glad some things never changed, though. You certainly haven't."

Fabian placed his hand atop of hers, and then placing them on top of her heart. _Thud. Thud._ What surprised the brunet was the lack of scar tissue, but he supposed that due to her special Egyptian prowess that she healed from her inflictions relatively quickly. Nina looked puzzled, but enjoyed the gesture.

"What's wrong, Fabian?" she asked.

"N – Nothing," he lied, glad that it was dark so that she could not see him blush. However, she did raise her eyebrows, which only meant that this could go one of two ways. "Okay, fine. I lie. I kind of stabbed you to get Senkhara out – mission accomplished – and there's no sign of healing. It's like the injury was never there."

"Maybe being the Paragon does have its perks. Though I don't remember this being one of them," Nina remarked. She then told Fabian to continue.

"Right," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Remember how Eddie and Patricia told you Alfie, Amber, and Mick are dead?"

"Yeah?"

"They're not. Or at least, they're not the last time I checked. Senkhara wanted Amber and Alfie dead for some reason, so she sent them to live a life of exile with Rufus – "

" – I did_ what?"_ Nina apologised as Fabian cleared his throat.

"As I was saying, Amber and Alfie are living with Rufus in the Gatehouse. Mick… well, you know he's the father of Mara's baby and Senkhara didn't take pre-marital sex too well, which is weird… right. You don't have to know about that. Like with most of her problems, she sentenced him to capital punishment, and that's why everyone thinks he's dead."

Nina's lips parted, pupils narrowing with fear, "Tell me he's not dead."

"He isn't," Fabian affirmed, grin widening, "well, at least he shouldn't be. Remember Robbie from the election? Well, he hates the sight of blood and he was supposed to kill Mick, so I managed to smuggle him out of death row and into the Gatehouse with Amber and Alfie." His grin faded. "I just hope I haven't sentenced him to an even more miserable existence."

"At least he should be, for the most part, alive," Nina consoled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Let's go to the Gatehouse."

The brunet paled, "What?"

"Me, you, Eddie, Mara, Patricia – let's go to the Gatehouse," the blonde repeated. Their hands parted. "Oh my God, they don't know, do they?" He stayed silent. "Fucking _hell_, Fabian, how could you not tell them?"

"It wasn't safe!" Fabian hissed, "I did tell Eddie, and I have a feeling Jerome knew… and don't act like you didn't remember – oh wait, you _don't_ – if Senkhara ever found out that I did this right under her nose, she'd have me murdered."

Nina shook her head, her mouth upturned into a scowl. "Wow, Fabian. That was low. But that's okay, because it's like I completely thought that through and did what was best for us." She spun on her heel and headed back towards Anubis House.

"Where are you going?" Fabian exclaimed, chasing after her like he always did.

"Anubis House to get everyone else," she began, quickening her pace, "then to the Gatehouse. I've learned a little thing or two about keeping secrets during my time."

* * *

><p>Eddie bashed the door with a battering ram he got from God knows where. It took Patricia yanking him by the collar for him to stop boasting of his handiwork and go inside. Mara tilted a book back – something to do with Egyptian numerology, as expected – and she found a spiral staircase leading downstairs. The rest followed her, thankful that Fabian at least managed to bring a flashlight.<p>

The smell of dead rats and blood made Nina's face turn sour. She was hardly surprised that she was the only one whose stomach churned when she could feel something squish beneath her feet. She could also see discarded clothes and flies whizzing around corpses – or what was left of them.

"How long do these go on again, Fabian?" Patricia complained, and that lifted Nina's spirits somewhat. She'd never been so glad to hear her newlywed friend's voice. "I'm sure we've been down here for nearly an hour and I think that Krueger here needs to go potty soon."

"I do not!" Eddie howled, "as for your question, Yacker, these are tunnels. They're part of a labyrinth – yes, I do know some very big words – and therefore, they go on indefinitely. Also, you're forgetting the fact that Alfie, Amber and Mick might have moved since the last time Fabian checked?"

"I hate to admit it, but Eddie's right," Mara said, flinching when she saw the Millers holding hands. When she lifted her head, she found that there was a fork up ahead. In the left tunnel, there was a light. That seemed promising. There was no light in the right, but she swore to hear the faint echoing of footsteps in that direction.

Mara made the subconscious decision to head for the right as all of her friends made for the left. She regretted not bringing a flashlight of her own (though she had no choice as hers had been lost long ago) but she swore that sounds were echoing off the walls. From a distance, she could hear the shredding of something, a thump or two. She took a large stride. There was a large squish as she stepped on the ground below.

"Who's there?" a voice called out, but the unique timbres of the voice were too vague for Mara to know if it was someone she knew. The scuffling on the ground made her think that person could've had a limp. She stood still in her position, her heart beating far too loudly in her chest. The raven-haired woman could not let herself breathe for fear of letting her position be discovered.

She felt the warmth of someone's breath on her forehead. Arms wrapped around her waist, and she screamed before a finger was pressed to her lips.

"Mara," he said, "it's me."

Confusion bloomed brightly all over her face, and before she could do much else she squealed once more, embracing the person in front of her. "Mick?" she said, mouth wide with joy and eyes brimming with tears. "Y – You're supposed to be dead! How can you survive down these tunnels for so long? Not like I don't prefer you alive, but how – "

"I have my ways," the blond replied, tilting her head upwards. He ended up pecking her on the nose, which earned the both of them much-needed laughter.

The happiness of the moment faded when Mara thought of the other people she was meant to look for. "Oh God, Amber, Alfie – "

"Alfie's gone, Mara," Mick said, not knowing how else to break the news other than bluntly. "He's… he's…

"_No,"_ Mara whispered, collapsing on Mick's shoulder. "H – How…"

"Rufus," he snarled. "But that's okay, I killed him."

She shook her head. "Mick," she sighed, her dam of compartmentalised emotions finally cracking, "first J – Joy, then Je – Jerome… now Alfie – "

He ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her forehead. "Let's go back up, yeah?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. To no one's knowledge, the only emotion he felt was relief at being able to see the sun again.

* * *

><p>Patricia glared at Eddie. "Oh, so only <em>now<em> you notice she's missing?"

"I'm sorry my priorities lay elsewhere, Yacker!" the blonde yelled, running a hand through his hair. He turned yet another corner. "We don't have the time or money to worry about our friends going missing!"

"Can you two stop arguing for like, one second?" Nina cut in. As she said so, she heard something, and commanded everyone behind her to shush. Fabian raised a brow at her action, but she would not reply. Soon, the reason became apparent: there was a quiet, girlish voice singing.

"_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark..."_

Nina's eyes fell upon a curtain of hair. It looked like tarnished copper, leaving a trial on the ground. The four gently tiptoed behind her until they got a better view of her, and Patricia whispered something into Eddie's ear that made him jump. Nina and Fabian shushed them, but the girl didn't seem to notice that they were there.

"Amber?" Patricia hissed, "it's us: Patricia, Fabian, Nina, Eddie – "

Now everyone else told her to shush. She was still singing, this time a different song. _"I'll taste the devil's tears, drink from his sword but I'll never give up you…"_

Fabian decided to take the ultimate risk, and gently poked the blonde on the shoulder. She stopped singing, and then she turned to look at him. Brown eyes analyse every curve of his features, frowning slightly. Her lips parted, and the brunet swore he could see the word _Fabian_ being mouthed in recognition.

"Do you remember me?"

She nodded. Her arms moved, revealing Alfie's closed eyes and the blood on his chest. Decomposition had begun, but it hadn't impacted the body yet. Nina shook her head, and Patricia began to cry, sobbing into Eddie's shirt. Amber didn't seem perturbed to her friend's actions, instead rocking his body back and forth between her arms as she hummed a tune. _The Doctor Who theme song,_ Fabian observed, and he let a smile creep up his face.

"We have to go, Amber," Eddie said, clutching Patricia close to him. The blonde shook her head, and it wasn't until dawn that she managed to move, taking all of her courage.

* * *

><p>"Are we really leaving, Fabian?" Nina asked. She held his hand in hers as they packed up the rest of their things. "We can't be leaving. I've just gotten back to normal and I'm not sure if I can go back to school just yet."<p>

"We have to, Nina," the brunet reassured, staring at a very worried Mick. Mara had been admitted to the hospital a week ago, and no important news had come other than the fact that yes, she was doing fine. His gaze shifted to the Millers, who were getting ready to go to court now that their eighteenth birthdays had passed.

Nina dragged her suitcases out of the house, and by the end of the hour, everyone had too. They all hugged each other, vowing to keep in touch even if they were all over the place. Fabian gave Mick and Mara's baby a book to read, and joked that they should name the baby after him.

In memoriam of the fallen, Mara decided to name her baby Joy.

They had lunch outside the house, and for once Eddie did not ruin the kitchen or nearly burn the house down. Patricia did not pour liquids on anyone's heads. Nina and Fabian managed to keep their hands to themselves. And Mick? Well, he was Mick. He ate until he nearly choked on a burger.

That afternoon, the doors of Anubis House closed for the last time.

* * *

><p>Amber was back to her annual summer sunglasses, swimsuit and heels fashion spree by next summer. She invited the surviving members – little Joy Campbell included – to her beach penthouse for a little summer fun.<p>

She was, as a result of her time in Redrock House, unaware of the lack of communication they had with each other. The memories of their school were still too painful after all this time, and everyone changed numbers anyway so there seemed no point in talking.

Nina was the last one to stay, knowing that she owed her best friend some time to catch up. And they did, often sharing salad recipes and talking about boys and how Amber's ex in Redrock was a _total_ nutjob and it was a wonder they even dated in the first place. They even talked about Fabian, but they completely glossed over the topic of Alfie. He, as was Jerome, Anubis House and other related topics, were tabooed.

Neither of them would want it any other way.

What Nina forgot to tell everyone was that a few days after she came to Amber's house, her hair began to fall. Soon, she was bald, and she had to buy a wig from a nearby costume shop. Not even Fabian could tell the difference. Then, she began to feel weak and dizzy all the time. Once, she spent far too long in the bathroom and that made Mara think she was possibly pregnant with Fabian's child.

Two days before she was due to go, Nina woke up to find her hands and feet chained to the bed. She screamed, only to find her best friend at the edge of the bed smirking, singing the exact same words that she did when they found her in the tunnels.

"_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark."_

"WHAT THE _FUCK_, AMBER?" Nina shrieked, coughing. "UNTIE ME!"

"No can do, Nina," Amber said, her voice as cheery and peppy as ever. "Or should I say, Senkhara?" Poison from the girl's voice was aimed at Nina's heart. "Did you really think that you could just pretend like none of last year happened?"

"I – I'm sorry, Amber."

"No. No you're not. You let Rufus use me as a puppet. Then you let him kill Alfie! And then you sentenced Mick to death just because he got Mara pregnant." Amber's smile turned into a scowl. "You are a horrible, horrible person, Senkhara."

"What do you want?"

"Hmm…" Amber put a mocking thoughtful expression on her face. "I don't know, maybe I want you dead. Preferably a long one where you suffer and hurt so much you'd rather die than live. Oh wait – I already got that covered." She put on her finest smile.

Nina's face paled, shivering. She began to cry as the realisation rushed into her. "Amber," she whispered, "what the hell did you do to me?"

The Englishwoman grin widened, standing up and pacing around the room. "Have you heard of a radioactive element called polonium, dearest Nina?" she asked, "it's very radioactive and very, very dangerous. I got some off the internet and used Daddy's credit card to buy it. Then I just put little by little in your food…"

"What…"

"It's okay." Amber pulled the wig off her hair, revealing a bare scalp. "I'm dying too." She then removed a gun from her pocket, shaking it to see if it had any bullets. "I wonder what this does."

She aimed the gun at Nina's chest, and the American began to wriggle in her bed, shrieking and screaming to get her out of there. Amber paid her no mind as she fired three shots at her heart.

They were all on target. Nina stopped moving.

She then pointed the gun to her own head, tear sliding down her face as she saw Alfie's figure in the distance. "I'll see you soon, Alfie," she whispered, tightening her grip on the trigger.

_Bang._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Please review? (:


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